The Chronicles of Lucius
by Fyrie
Summary: Throughout the CoS period, Lucius Malfoy keeps a dia... er... Chronicle of events. Last updated: 26th Sept. COMPLETE
1. The Plot

Harry Potter and The Chronicles of Lucius

The Plot

Notes: This was inspired by a comment by that rather yummy Isaacs bloke who is playing Lucius Malfoy in Harry Potter & The Chamber of Secrets. He claimed this is the title of the sneak preview of book five that JKR showed him and it's all about Lucius' love life and the like. So, gosh darnit, he's getting it! Only, after talking to my Harry-loving flatmate, we decided it would be amusing to do in a slightly... er... Bridget Jones style. And do it about CoS. So...be warned. It's a little...silly.

_____________________________

****

June 28th 1992

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Hair in top condition. Evil glare suitably terrifying (made Draco whimper at breakfast - good start to day). Robes dashing. Arse in very good shape.

Started writing these, my chronicles (not diary - diaries are girly. Am an evil bastard, therefore ungirly). Shut Narcissa up about never using her Christmas presents. Must drop subtler hints about wanting a Porsche instead of another journal. Preferably silver with snake painted on front. 

Snakes rather nifty. Must remember to get one for Draco. Big one. With teeth. Will be amused if he screams like girl. Then furious, as it is not fitting for an evil heir to scream like a girl.

Unless an evil girly scream.

Must look into existence of such a thing.

Plans for day - nothing exciting. Will go hunting. Perhaps find some muggles. Find it amusing to chase them around grounds and poke them with sticks, but will not admit so to my Dark Master.

Must sell some of Dark Lord's favourite toys to Borgin soon. Hall, dining room and living room cluttered. Dark magic objects frightfully passe. Smell bad as well. Would rather have nice Porsche. Silver. May have mentioned it before. Would look very good in front of house. Especially with me in it. Arse and hair would compliment Porsche very well.

Will get one for Christmas.

If receive another diary, will kill wife and make it look like accident.

Possibly suffocate her with avalanche of diaries. Would be amusing, although look rather homicidal.

Will consider better options.

Sidenote: son looks far too innocent. Certain I saw halo floating over his head. Must make certain he has run in with Playwizard (or Playwitch, if thus inclined. If so inclined, will kill (make it look like accident - must work on modes of accidental-looking deaths) and get another Heir) before too late to corrupt. 

Work on malicious gitness as well. Must bond with son and make certain to train him in ways of Dark Side. Bitching-like-an-evil-bastard a specialist father-son bonding activity. Have been putting it off far too long. Will make appointment with son to train in snide wit.

However, on positive note, have heard son called 'arrogant little snot' and 'malicious little pillock' by family friend. Was rather proud in evil fashion. Placed cruciatus on friend for being impolite about son. Laughed at his pain in evil way.

Evil is fun. Evil is wearing black in summer. Seems stupid, looks bloody awesome.

Back to son issues.

Is shaping up well. Rather scrawny and sulky. Face too pointed. Looks too much like mother. Hope he will become butcher before Dark Lord returns. Very embarrassing to have son look like little sissy girl with pretty hair. 

Must also find some way to make son less cute. Possibly add more hideous gel to floppy hair. Resembling a Ken doll is acceptable. Does not befit the son of an evil bastard to look cute.

Will write later.

~~~*~~~

****

July 3rd 1992

__

Hair - no comment. Evil glare spectacular (checked in mirror and almost pissed pants with terror). Robes dusty. Arse bruised and...sore.

Wish I was single. Wife is nothing but trouble.

Gives me book, then decides I don't need it, just when I decide to use it.

Must remember to send house elves into attic to clean up corpses before they turn to slime and dust next time. Unpleasant gooey residue on shoes. Knots in hair. Robes... no longer worth as much as they cost.

That settles it. 

Will kill wife. Accidentally or not. Will kill her.

Cane also in dire need of polish.

Bloody woman.

'But Luci,' she simpered (A death worthy crime as bad as buying bloody diaries every bloody year. Simpering _and_ that name. Grr. Will kill her hard.) when I told her my fall (out of attic, onto very hard stone floor of hall, broken by house elf) was her fault. 'You weren't using it.'

Of course. Silly me. Should have realised. Ink, marked on sheets of parchment in book by quill, in strange patterns commonly known as words would never suggest that book is in fact being used. 

Bloody stupid bloody woman.

'You put it in the attic,' I tell her, trying very hard not to throw something - perhaps the chair beside me - at her head.

'I thought it was for storage.'

With the fifteen other diaries that you bought, bloody stupid woman.

Pointless arguing. Wife's single brain cell clearly out for repairs.

Decide to sulk in study, out of way of stupid bloody wife. Will save time and energy of hurling chair at wife's head. Will also allow time to regain poise after landing on house elf in most undignified position.

Arse hurts.

Never noticed house elf's nose was so hard or long.

Now understand why wife always has annoying cheesy grin on face after house elf cleans bedroom.

Will kill wife and house elf (filthy, perverse little thing) soon.

And possibly son.

After Porsche arrives.

Silver Porsche.

With snake emblem.

May have mentioned previously. Rather attached to muggle vehicle.

Aha! Will mow down wife, house elf and son in front of garden of house and claim not to understand muggle controls of wheel and driving. Ha! Have solved mystery problem of accidental death. 

Although, Ministry know of driving licence.

Bugger.

Will find another solution.

Will write later. Must sulk and apply lotion to arse now.

~~~*~~~

****

July 18th 1992

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Hair - found split end. (Will call Carlos to come and see to it. Very traumatising.) Evil glare barely satisfactory. (Must up anger-margin. Glare has been waning in evil potential of late. Disappointing.) Robes - new, pretty & expensive. (Also make wife look fat. Ha! Feel smug!) Arse back to normal suppleness. 

Son improving in standing.

Was reading paper at breakfast with wife and son. Commented on son's lack of personal hygiene (a shower, a sauna and two baths a day is never enough). Son gave wicked and very evil glare.

Believe him to still be sore about additional hair gel.

Look, while not terrifying, was great improvement on sulky scowl.

Was suitably impressed.

However, unfortunately, impressed and proud paternal smile that was intended emerged as black glaring look, which suggested death and evil (always when you least want it to happen).

Son cowered instantly. (Go me! I still have the gift!)

However, cowering was minimal.

Still impressed by improving glare of son. Is learning well. Will soon step up lessons to subtle threat.

Sneering well done, but son lacks in subtle threat and cunning. Subtle threat and cunning, the Death Eaters friend. Son as subtle as a brick through a window. Must change this as soon as possible.

V. exciting progress.

Will update with future developments.

__

~~~*~~~

****

July 26th 1992

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Hair decent. Evil glare less than adequate (pleasant mood to blame. Bloody thing). Robes nice. Arse v. nice (hence good mood - bugger. Must look for rule that evil gits must not be happy. Grr. Am Evil. Will try and act so.)

V. good day. Came up with evil scheme while tidying up boss' evil toys. Thought of plot. Arranged plot. Felt suitably evil. Cackled inappropriately. Felt embarrassed and tortured house elf, which witnessed said cackle. Nobby or some such name. Believe it will not talk. If does talk, will kill it (no need to make look accidental – still working on modes of accidental. More difficult than expected).

Back to plot. Did it all. Arranged it all. Will put into motion in next week or two. Felt rather spiffy and clever. Without wife sticking nose in. Go me. Disembodied boss should be proud. 

Hope it works. 

Will feel rather stupid if not.

Will blame wife.

Will kill and make look like accident, if necessary. Will do for fun, otherwise.

(Left subtle note for 'Santa' on top of Porsche catalogue on wife's bed. Circled silver Porche in red ink and drew big snake on bonnet. V. subtle. Hope she takes hint. Will wait until after Christmas to kill. Must find out if Porsche is coming. V. excited about it. If another diary, will make death messy. Screw accidental.)

Anyway, back to plot.

Have book of Dark Lord. Initially believed it to be possessed. Spilled ink on it by accident (yet can not plan death to look like accident – must try harder). It swore in writing. Thought book very rude. Then realised something about book. Book is evil and writing to me. Book must be Dark Lord's secret plan for resurrection. Believe him to have mentioned it several times before death. 

Was meant to trigger it immediately after death. Forgot. Was having hair done. (Am blond. Remember that.) 

Realised had potential evil artefact in hands and felt rather smug. In evil way, of course, before recalling Dark Lord's orders. Oops.

Well, better late than never.

Will trigger immediately and rub hands with glee as Dark Master comes and claps me on back for wisdom and smartness, then watch him kill wife for being a silly blonde tart. Will also laugh maniacally at this.

Hope Dark Lord doesn't mind twelve-year delay. Will blame wife. Wife is v. v. v. stupid. Wife tidied it away because wife is really stupid. Will kill wife for stupidity (possibly push off fitting cliff...) 

Found book in attic after years of searching. Was very emotional. Overjoyed. Had party to celebrate return of book to my hands. Would have triggered it immediately if wife had not been so stupid.

Good excuse.

Hope Dark Lord believes it.

Dark Lord looked like a snake with problem with contact lenses, yet believed when told he was handsome.

He will believe excuse. Stupid git.

Must find suitable silly nit to take book off hands.

Considered giving to son (son stupid, like wife) but would rather avoid shagging wife, to make another Heir. Find it hard to concentrate on shagging when her arse is smaller than mine. Would like a big-arsed girl. Wife resembles mop.

Will resist temptation to use wife's head to wash floor.

Will also resist temptation to ram cane up house elf's arse and use him to wash floor. 

Would hate to sully cane.

Must ponder and plot. Require a suitable fool, but not of family. Narrows the field a great deal.

Perhaps, a schoolmate of son.

Someone small and stupid.

Someone who will find a book that writes rude things at them amusing - must remind Dark Lord that his vocabulary will not be appreciated by children of son's age, no matter how orphaned they are.

Same excuse, different day.

'But my mother died,' said he, sniffing with his little snakey nose, when he asked me to join him. Aimed for pity and persuasion. Found it very amusing, but not as amusing as his face.

'I killed mine. You point?' said I.

Was first time Dark Lord had no answer. 

Was bitch-slapped for being cheeky.

Also earned nickname of smartest Death Eater by being smart arse. Decided that job wasn't half bad.

Can't help wondering about intelligence of being called Death Eaters. Eating Death defeats general purpose of death. Death Meters more appropriate in circumstances. Or Death Regurgitators. 

Will bring up subject at next meeting.

Now, must continue to plot.

Both with Boss' book and 'accidental' deaths of wife, son and treacherous, long-nosed house-elf.

Will update soon.


	2. In Motion

The Chronicles Of Lucius

In Motion

Notes: Lucius has a plan. And its a v. cunning plan. Involving a diary. You wouldn't think this guy is anti-diary would you? Ooh! Madcap head-thought! Voldemort's Diary :D Now, there's a disturbing Bridget-Jones-esque adaptation ;)

Oh and for the record, his green outfit of choice is taken from a film I've seen stills from, in which Jason I wears said outfits and a bobbed wig. Is very disturbing.

_______________________

****

August 6th 1992

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Hair strangely good. Evil glare on minimum power (recharging for confrontation with Borgin. Must be in ultimate evil-bitch BASTARD mode. Dealing with stingy bastard with bad hair never fun). Robes discarded (casual attire to scare son). Arse could be better.

Is approaching time of year when son is exiled for months. 

Official of location of exile is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Call it 'Hell' and hope son will be happy there, while laughing v. evilly because son can no longer stop me playing with toys. 

V. attached to his magic train set. Especially 'woo' noise. V. fun. 

Will send many taunting owls to son during term about playing with toys without permission, signed by wife. Always amusing to receive angry howlers in morning, to scare and confuse wife.

Can't wait to get rid of him again. Keeps whining (and not v. evilly) about not being best at everything (suggested he blame mother for lack in share of brain cell) and complaining about Pot or something. 

Pot in Hogwarts. 

Note to self - Must see other Governors of school about abuse of narcotics at educational facilities. Ha! Will have Dumbledore out of school this time! Will teach him to try and have better hair!

Will never happen. Dumbledore has yet to work out that split ends are not good. And beards are so last century. Silly old fart.

Also, old twit has yet to realise that black is in. Why is evil always in black? Because evil is always fashion-conscious and v. nifty. Evil does not wear massive colourful dressing gowns or silly hats.

Evil also looks good in silver Porsche with snake on front.

Have fingers crossed over Christmas present. V. excited if wife has taken hint.

Back on son's exile. 

Downside - son requires vast outpouring of cash, in order to attend school. Will naturally want everything available (last year, wanted a dragon, but was turned down on principal that it could eat him. Will look into getting a Ridgeback for him. Would be classed as 'accidental').

Son has also grown since last year.

Damned hormones.

Must buy new books, new robes and new broomstick for son. Will also try to find shrinking potion to prevent more growth. Feeling distinctly dwarfed. Must find way to keep son smaller and less imposing.

Will desist son's evil-glare lessons. Son is already adequate at evil scowl. Evil scowl sufficient for age. Would not do to have son being expert in evil glare and taller. Must retain dominant male position in family.

Son's exile good for that too.

With wife and self in home, not hard to be dominant male. Wife is sap.

Other plus side of son leaving - shopping! 

Will never admit to wife but am closet shopaholic (Dark Master knows and shares opinion - have had many happy shopping sprees with Dark Lord). Also a closet closet-holic. Bought four closets last time, in Knockturn Alley. V. evil looking. Was forced (really!) to buy clothing to fill each. V. nice clothing.

Would have been pity to let closest sit empty.

Wife remarked on expense.

Wife is bloody fool - lets me do all accounts. Hers too. Stupid wife.

Will leave sufficient amount of money in wife's account for purchase of Porsche before Christmas. V. excited! Want it to have black leather seats (black leather on arse = v. nice) and horn that plays 'La Cuacaracha'!

Was also forced to have house extended again and additional closet room added.

Wife believes that closet room contains bodies of dead wives. Alludes to someone called Bluebeard. Wish wife would stop talking rubbish. However, thought of bodies keeps wife out of private shrine.

Always good.

Would hate to find skinny wife trying on new clothing, especially new sequined green number. Makes arse look spectacular. Sadly, cannot wear in public as would lack in credibility of evil bastard to be seen in dress.

Bloody pity. Look v. good in it.

Also, must prepare for meeting with board of Governors. Am youngest and prettiest Governor (with best hair and arse). Will be boring, as usual, but must show face and satisfy lust of all old men by waving cane imperiously.

Cane oddly popular with older men. Often find them trying to touch it. Must smack knuckles on regular basis. V. distracting.

Must research why so popular for men to try and touch my cane.

Will write post-meeting.

~*~

****

August 7th 1992

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Hair lank. Evil glare...who gives a damn! In V.V.V.V. bad mood!!

Bloody Governors!

Made me look like prat.

Grr!

Brought up subject of pot causing great irritation to son in school. Received funny looks and was informed that no pot is available in school. Told board what son had said. Board laughed hysterically.

Threatened to take cane away.

Board fell silent.

Must listen to son.

No pot at school.

Potter.

Boy of same age as son with v. bad hair and nasty specs.

Must teach son to speak coherently. Or English at least.

Bloody son. Bloody Governors. Bloody school!

Grr!

Even thought of Porsche and new wardrobe not helping.

When Dark Lord emerges triumphant from little book, will stand over Governors and laugh when all are dead!

No! Wait!

Will stand and laugh as Evil Master kills them all! 

Will teach them not to laugh at me.

Will taunt them with cane that I have and they don't.

Ha! Taunting over possession of cane truly a mark of greatest evil!

Oh and murdering board also considered evil, but taunting so much more amusing.

Will plot evilly to plant Dark Lord's book on stupid school child.

Plot taking shape nicely.

~*~

****

August 9th 1992

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Hair perfect. Evil glare simmering (will activate fully when reach Borgin. Must not be distracted or give up Dark Lord's toys for tiny amounts). Robes sophisticated and v. nice fit. Arse in perfect shape for shopping spree.

Am taking son to Knockturn Alley for school supplies. Will use wife's account. Wife v. soft when comes to son. Wife loves son. Think wife might have been dropped on head at birth.

V. concerned about son.

Son requested bigger, better broomstick with 'lovely' smooth bristles to stick between legs. Tried not to read into it. Failed. Believe son might be inclined in other directions. Son's fixation with hair and clothing rather worrying (Self not to blame).

More worrying issue raised when son asked for broomsticks for six friends to stick between legs, so son can...play with friends...

Will not read into it. 

But son is far too pretty...

Considering returning wife to father. Must be faulty. Provided son that looks and acts like whiny little sissy girl. Desired evil bastard for Heir. Will require (and demand) full refund from father of wife. 

Also, taking book of Dark Lord to shops.

Will no doubt find silly twit to take book off hands.

Will inform of plot developments later.

~*~

****

August 10th 1992

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Hair in knots (on fourth hour of untangling and getting bored of it). Evil glare on maximum strength (wife and son cowering under bed in back room). Robes dusty and messy. Arse bruised.

In oddly good mood (will explain good mood temporarily. Must rant first), but with enough of a bad mood for evil glare to scare wife, son, house elves, Minister of Magic and others.

Shopping went well.

Son provided with seven brooms. One for self and six for friends - decided it may be easier to indulge his fancy for time being. Have been told it may just be a phase and should not worry.

Son also strangely fascinated with Hand Of Glory that curls tightly around phallic-shaped-objects in Borgin & Burkes. Did not get it. Broom enough. Sincerely hope he wanted it for criminal reasons. 

Will try not to read into it.

Also, sold sufficient number of dinky toys of Dark Lord for sufficient price to afford spangly pair of shoes to match shimmery green number. V. attractive. Make legs look long and slim. V. pleased with purchase.

Kept Dark Lord's train set for self. Is v. evil and makes v. evil 'woo' sound. V. fun!

However, got in fight with man with very stupid hair.

Long story - went into bookshop, with intention of buying books, and found son practising evil sneer on quartet of badly-dressed children. Son lacking in subtlety (as with cunning and threat) but quartet...v. easy target.

Found one of quartet, with grubby face, to be Harry Potter. Was tempted to bash him on head with cane for being cause of Governors amusement. Son dislikes Potter and Potter dislikes son. 

Decided to make Potter uncomfortable.

Too easy for v. evil bastard like self.

Twit tried to shake hand and was pulled up in front of me. Has no taste in robes. Used cane to move badly-groomed hair to see ugly scar on forehead. Tempted to suggest laser treatment. Resisted. 

Noticed that boy didn't pull back from hand-holding or cane until parents were mentioned. Worried that boy may be attracted to me (Can't blame him, though). Hope that was just a wand in boy's pocket. 

Boy's stare rather intense. Had very green eyes. Would look v. good in favourite green number. Wondered briefly if boy would be interested in modelling green number in closet room at home then noticed son glaring at boy.

Think son may have serious UST with boy. Boy clearly in same boat as son. 

Recalled something about son being jealous of boy's technique with broomstick and something about boy always catching gold balls. Was distracted. Must listen more carefully next time.

Will not read into it.

Decided that enemies of son deserve privilege of seeing professional evil sneer in progress. Little girl with big hair looked suitably terrified. Was v. pleased with results until Weasley jumped in.

Weasley v. annoying man with many sons. Only one Weasley son looks like girl (v. nice-looking, v. nice hair and v. nice clothes - definitely in same boat as son). Mind you, rest of Weasley sons all stupid-looking. Is amusing.

Weasley also v. poor.

Sneered v. evilly (son watched in awe) and ended up in punch-up with Weasley for insulting family. Was rather funny. Son stood by and gaped like fish. At Potter. Was rather annoyed, as was having arse pummelled and was outnumbered.

Was broken up by big bloke with v. bad hair and smelled like dead rabbit. Decided that shop was beneath me. Took son and departed.

Realised as soon as was outside that book of Dark Lord was no long in pockets or down front of trousers (safest place for it). Suspect book might have fallen into hands of one of Weasley's offspring.

Do vaguely recall hearing clang when fell. Certain that book somehow fell into book-filled cauldron of youngest Weasley. Short girl with fuzzy red hair and badly-made clothes. Would have recommended suicide over such a wardrobe.

Hope so! 

Would be irony.

Dark Lord will make come back because of muggle-lover's kids.

Hence, good mood.

Dark Lord's book is in hands of stupid twit. Stupid twit will like book and give soul to book. Book will eat soul of girl like wife eats celery and peanut butter (wife is freak - will find nice bridge to push her off). Soul of girl will be replaced with soul of Dark Lord. Dark Lord will return, very much alive.

Dark Lord will kick arses!

Will stand by in cheerleader uniform and wave pompoms.

Have nice legs that look v. good in silver and green cheerleader uniform. Arse is in best shape ever. 

On second thoughts, will not bother. Cheerleader uniform also reduces credibility of being evil bastard and chief aide to Dark Lord. Wish Evil could be more fun and have more outfits. Would like silver and green costume.

Would go well with Porsche, when arrives.

Do look good in black though.

Will petition Dark Lord for permission to wear black cheerleader robes at Death Eater meetings or on raids. Will be a bonding thing. Mildly disturbing thought of Goyle in tiny skirt. 

Will scrap that idea.

Will force Potter to wear cheerleader robes and waves pompoms. Shall find it highly amusing. Son will find it amusing also. Son might also consider it rather kinky and find Potter more attractive.

Bugger.

Will remove Potter from cheerleader uniform.

Will forget I ever wrote above line. Feel disgusted and sullied and wrong and not even a little evil. Will purge all thoughts of naked Potter from mind. Will find woman to shag to replace thought.

Hell, will shag wife in desperation.

Am sure the shock will kill her.

Would consider that natural death.

Will write later, must find wife now.


	3. Family Time

The Chronicles of Lucius

Family Time

Notes: Can't really think of any notes of import except that I wrote 2 chapters of The Eighth Weasley last night and this morning (morning - eurgh!) and should righteously be unconscious. I entirely blame Jason Isaacs and my flatmate for this story. And JKR for giving us a v. evil bastard with such nice hair and such a nice arse ;)

_______________________

****

August 17th 1992

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Hair braided (don't ask). Evil glare simmering under surface of smile (wife asked v. nicely. Could not resist pout. Am weak). Robes - fitting for party. Arse - lost it somewhere three hours ago during son's party (Am thinking in terms of 'bored my arse off').

Is son's twelfth birthday.

Despise any birthdays, parties, gift-giving and celebrations not directed at self. Dislike son stealing all attention for self (although friend of son commented on hair looking v. pretty - was rather sweet). 

Wife should be celebrated on anniversary of son's birth. Am getting soft, but wife did work v. hard on said day. Son just flopped out and looked naked and slimy. Wife spent fifteen hours in labour, stuck in middle of nowhere due to broken wand.

All wife's fault too, as wife grabbed wand - think it was knob - and snapped it with the intention of inflicting vengeful pain. Sadly (for wife - relief for self), broke wand and left knob intact.

Heh. Had forgotten about that.

Maybe wife not so bad.

Son also very tolerable.

Have strange urge to hug both and tell them I love them.

Would be v. evil thing to do, as they would suspect something bad is about to happen and fear me. May do this for amusement's sake. Son more terrified of hugs than of evil glare over breakfast.

Think today has gone rather well. 

World swaying a little, but otherwise, v. good day.

Might also be marginally drunk...

Wife made certain drinks were non-alcoholic for twelve-year-olds.

Son spiked drinks. 

Would have been proud of son's cunning, but had no idea until started feeling a little merry. Was forced to obliviate all guests who witnessed attack of giggles and singing 'Like a Virgin' on table in living room.

Does not befit evil and cunning bastard to be seen having fun. Fun is weakness. Evil is good-looking and sophisticated with good hair and nice arse. Must bring up subject of 'Evil being too serious' at next meeting.

Son was peeing self laughing at my behaviour.

Would be v. embarrassed but all guests have forgotten.

Feel superior and evil for blindsiding them.

Wife pointed out that guests no longer have clue who they are.

Decided that must use this for own benefit.

Emptied all pockets and bags of confused guests. All guests assumed it to be some kind of v. amusing game. Now in possession of a dozen Gringotts keys and vault numbers of v. wealthy family friends.

Will be able to afford v. nice new shoes on next shopping trip.

Must buy gift for wife to thank her for cunning idea.

Will buy her diary, as wife seems to have fixation on diaries.

Can also afford to buy Porsche for self, but will wait until Christmas to see if wife has taken subtle hint.

Would be nice to keep money to buy new wardrobes, if wife does buy Porsche.

Have seen rather nice pair of shoes that would look v. nice with evening robes.

Now, must go and lecture son (on wife's orders. Wife is v. attractive today. Am tempted to seduce her. Must be v. drunk) on evils of spiking drinks, esp. when father does not know and makes utter tit of himself in public.

Will write more later when page stops spinning.

~*~

****

August 18th 1992

__

Hair attached to head (Wish that head was attached to nothing. Groo...). Evil glare non-existent due to ice pack on forehead and inability to open eyes sufficiently to glare. Robes replaced with shirt and trousers baggy enough not to make stomach feel worse than already. Arse seated on.

When headache clears, will lecture son properly about spiking drinks.

Will also make certain that son knows that spiking coffee, tea and hot chocolate not amusing or clever. Unless in case of other people drinking beverages and making tits of selves. Then spiking can be considered highly amusing.

Feel nasty.

Woke up beside v. naked wife.

Was rather surprised to say least.

Was also surprised to find self naked.

Surprise increased when wife started kissing me. And then again, when I started kissing wife in ways not used since honeymoon and liked it. Wife liked it too. Wife made very...amusing sound effects.

Unfortunately, headache kicked in.

Real head ache for once.

And stomach refused to keep any food in it.

Am enjoying being nursed by wife.

Must be ill or still drunk.

Wife v. pleased to see diary being used so much, although will have to remember to put sealing charm on diar...er...Chronicle, to prevent wife peeking to see what is written about her.

Wife nuzzling neck. Will stop wri

~*~

****

August 24th 1992

__

Hair mussed (by wife). Evil glare sated (in direction of son. Son grounded until school starts for being little prick in v. obnoxious and not v. evil way). Robes on floor. Arse being petted (v. distracting).

Have decided that wife isn't so bad.

Wife is v. pretty when smiling and even prettier when doing...other things with her mouth. Will not go into details, but enjoy greatly. Returning favour also v. fun for wife and self.

Have decided arse is as good as wife's, although wife still a little on skinny side.

Wife is as keen as self to see son go so house will be just ours (wife has exhibitionist streak and desires to use every piece of furniture for kinky purposes - will be interesting to see how all progresses). 

Both agree that having son moved into room next door, to let him hear...noises during night would be sufficient punishment to dissuade him from spiking drinks again, but have yet to leave room to inform son of development.

Will get house elves to do dirty work.

Am preoccupied.

~*~

****

August 26th 1992

__

Hair brushed (by wife. Wife v. good with hands). Evil glare replaced temporarily with stupid grin shared by wife (Stupid grin still undercut by evilness of grin. Will explain shortly). Robes on floor, bed, chair (wife rather enthusiastic last night). Arse slightly bruised and scratched, but firmer than usual (have been...exercising it well).

Was kept up half of last night due to son knocking on wall.

Mind you, kept son up other half night by knocking back. 

With headboard of bed.

Believe son will be mentally traumatised by time comes to return to Hell (suitable lesson for spiking drink without informing me) or, if not, will realise he has duty as heir in family. Hope son finds girl who looks a little less like wife.

Will be v. disturbed if son brings home mini-wife-like as wife.

Will be even more disturbed if son brings home green-eyed-boy-in-need-of-laser-treatment home as wife.

If son does so, will insist on green-eyed boy modelling green number, as a test of worthiness for claiming son's hand. If green-eyed boy looks better in dress, will kill and toast like marshmallow. 

If boy makes play for son anyway, will kill and toast like marshmallow, as son is utterly butch boy (or will be when floppy hair stops being so floppy and girly) and will marry girl of decent blood that does not resemble pig-dog.

However, do recall something significant about green-eyed boy, yet can't put finger on it.

Boy has significance in relation with Dark Master.

Son?

No (No woman with eyes in head (much preferred to out of head - messy otherwise) and a brain cell touched Dark Master with barge pole, no matter how much he liked it. Dark Master looooooooves barge poles. Dark Master was utterly kinky git).

Brother?

No. Too good-looking (in thoroughly non-judgemental way).

Great-nephew of second-cousin-in-law-three-times-removed?

No...

Just asked wife if she could recall significance of boy and wife gave me strange look.

Feel rather stupid, but pretend that I knew all the time that boy is Harry Potter, the boy who defeated the Dark Master by being cute (and buggered up plans for shopping trip with Dark Master for Christmas in New York in 1981).

Will not forget boy again.

Will write boy's name on hand to remind self at regular intervals and hope that name does not get mixed up with accumulated floo-numbers of conquests.

Would be rather embarrassing to floo boy when in need of kinky conversation.

Aha! 

Recall hearing about boy from son, again.

Also, recall making some witty remark about boy's scar, in book shop, and now recall why boy's scar is so famous. Boy received scar from Dark Lord's sparkly stic... er... wand (Dark Lord prefers to call wand 'Sparkly stick of Doom'. Dark Lord always wanted plastic sparkly stick with streamers and glitter in muggle orphanage and never received one. Dark Lord turned to evil out of desire to have sparkly stick with silver ribbons and glitter in it (Personally turned evil because of nifty-looking standard wardrobe and sexy snake stick. Hmm - will have to look into link between ownership spiffy-looking sticks and evil)). 

Should have remembered more about boy with stupid scar. Have heard all about scar from Governors and Ministry and everyone. Everyone finds scar v. exciting. Find scar rather ugly and disfiguring personally.

Would recommend laser treatment.

Still cannot believe I forgot that boy (who would really look v. good in shimmery green number, in spite of being vile, stinking, filthy little nemesis of Dark Master, son and all associates) is little kid who defeated Dark Master and ruined Christmas holiday plans in 1981.

Feel rather...blond. 

Good thing no one else knows I have no clue what I'm talking about.

Lucius Malfoy, handsome, sexy as his arse, sophisticated, blond and thick as a brick.

People too scared of evil glare or snake-cane to correct me.

Always good to know that evilness can be used as back-up.

Will finish now.

Wife is starting to touch places that make it difficult to concentrate.

~*~

****

August 31st 1992

__

Hair - badly knotted (will have wife untangle knots later). Evil glare - turned off for evening. Robes - not good for playing twister. Arse - very stiff and sore.

Is son's very last night at home before return to Hell and have made family-bonding evening out of it.

Son seemed distinctly relieved to be out of room and have both parents present and fully-clothed. Seems to have been dissuaded from spiking drinks at any future parties for time being.

Spent nice evening tormenting a few muggles with son before dinner, then after dinner had very civilised conversation about the advantages of using muggle objects, like cutlery, as implements of torture over magic.

Son surprisingly knowledgeable about uses of spoon for torture.

"Why a spoon, son?" I asked him, hoping to reveal he had read text books on subject.

Son gave very evil little grin (was almost shocked, but masked it well. Am expert after all. Go me). "Because it's dull, you twit," he answered, still grinning evil grin at me. "It'll hurt more."

Was suitably impressed at son's nerve and knowledge, but still smacked son on head with cane for being derisive and disrespectful to father.

When son is old enough, has finally stopped growing, can sneer evilly without making wife gush with pride, no longer has to resort to bucket of gel on floppy hair to prevent from looking like sissy girl, has gotten past fetish with broomstick and has cane of own, believe I will begin to feel intimidated.

Son looks to be truly evil bastard when grown.

V. glad son is still smaller than self for time being.

Not really in mood for dealing with threat to dominance in own family.

Finished off evening with rousing bout of fascinating muggle game called Twister, which appears to be closely related to either Karma-Sutra or possibly Masochists Do-It-Yourself handbook.

Game involves plastic sheet (will find interesting uses with wife, later) with four lines of different coloured circles and spin-dial-gizmo-thing (Never did muggle studies, so don't have a bloody clue of technical term).

Apparently, a group of people should play and position hands and feet on colours and positions where dial-board-thing says, although manual spin mechanism was made more interesting by introduction of wand.

Trick of game appears to be staying upright.

How muggles play game without magic, will never comprehend.

Was forced to use levitating spell after first go.

Was accused of cheating by son, who then kicked feet and caused wife and self to fall on arses. Painful, but v. amusing. Wife insisted on keeping game for 'later'. Am sure I saw son cringe at wife's words.

Son retired to bed.

Believe him to also be tying pillows over ears at present moment.

Will check on him in an hour or two, when son will be asleep. Son always looks so peaceful and anti-evil-mini-bastard when sleeping. Is strangely...emotional to see him so peaceful.

Am really getting soft in old age. 

Am almost ready to admit that I will miss son.

__

Almost.

Will write later, when less emotional.

And when wife stops nibbling earlobe.


	4. Lonesome

The Chronicles of Lucius

Lonesome

Notes: This is the second time this chapter is being written. First one (and it was v. funny in my opinion) was eaten by the diskdrive monster, who decided my disk was unworthy of possessing such a file. Grr. Was not best pleased. Anyway, am rewriting this at 2.30am, cos I have no life and its more fun than packing. Boo. No internet access/computer for a few weeks. Definitely not happy.

Also, happy holidays for everyone! Won't be posting any more story for a while cos of above reason, but hope you all have a fun time and don't get in too much trouble ;)

_________________________

****

September 1st 1992

__

Hair brushed (as usual). Evil glare pointless (wife is pleasant and son is no longer available as target). Robes suitable for seeing son onto very smelly and dirty steam train in public station (issued caution to son that bathing is essential as soon as is possible to reach dormitory or else son will turn into mini-house-master - greasy and sleazy git). Arse sore (Am suffering delayed side-effects of Twister. Have decided that when Dark Lord returns, will utilise game as a torture device equal to that of cruciatus).

House is v. quiet.

Didn't realise how much noise son made.

Actually, didn't realise how much noise son made in response to noise that wife and self made.

Son is now on way to Hell.

Or school.

Am missing son.

Is v. odd feeling.

Have no target for evil glare in absence of son. 

Am missing son commenting (usually in very high-pitched voice with look of shock and disgust) that wife and self are too old and wrinkly to be making noises like ones son heard from bedroom.

Will ignore sleight about being old wrinkly. Am as smooth as baby's bum.

Alas, son is gone.

Wish son was not attending school run by silly old fool with v. bad hair, silly poofy beard, v. weird and silly hats and dressing gowns. Believe old man to be Gandalf-wannabe, but is too boring.

And lacks in nifty big stick!

Gandalf has nifty big stick, much like own cane.

Would like to meet Gandalf (might be fictional, but would be v. interesting). 

Would also like to nick Gandalf's v. spiffy stick! Would make co-workers v. jealous!

Friend in other country has cane too. Not as spiffy or evil as self's cane or andalf's cane, but is nice cane nonetheless.

Wish son was attending good school of friend.

Can't stand thought of son being in same school as man with so many split ends.

Friend has decent school (and v. good hair) in Eastern Europe (v. cold but v. good for keeping complexion clear), but wife insists that son goes only to Hell, as wife would not want son to be far away from her.

Is silly, really.

Son spends all term at school so son is always away.

Think son's departure might have affected wife's braincell.

Also, have noticed house elf (one with v. long and hard nose) was missing from house when returned today. Stupid house elf has been sneaking off. Believe he may be having illicit affair with gnome in garden.

Will see to it that house elf gets punished.

Now, though, wife is moping.

Must make it manly duty to...comfort her.

Will write later.

~*~

****

September 2nd 1992

__

Hair in curlers (wife suggested it. Was too weak to refuse her). Evil glare on full power (although rather pointless). Robes replaced with casual robes, but still look damn fine (as always on self). Arse a little pruney around the edges, but v. much not wrinkly!

Son still ensconced in Hell and can stay there.

Received letter from son with morning post. Son was ranting about green-eyed boy once more (Potter. Must remember name - had to ask wife again. Wife gave me funny look again - claimed that evil fiends do not usually remember names of prey. Wife seemed satisfied. Felt rather dim).

Son has announced that son wants flying car for Christmas, so son can fly to school and crash into a tree and almost get squashed by same tree. Son believes he will not be expelled because...whats-his-n...Potter was not expelled for same stunt.

Son wishes to be squashed by tree? Well, will arrange for son to accompany self on trip to purchase Christmas tree and will strategically place son, so son can experience special moment of being smushed.

Will look like accident.

Although, positioning son in path of falling tree might look dubious to Ministry people and sincerely doubt they would believe, if I claimed that son 'fell' in front of tree, with snake-cane shaped dent on forehead.

Am not best pleased with ungrateful little son of a...well, ungrateful little evil-bastard son of an evil-bastard self, so should be proud, but no!

Son has decided that he is neglected child, as we have not provided flying car for him to look 'cool' in or allowed him to fly said car to school. Son demands flying car ASAP or son will complain of neglect (Flying car interesting idea, but would prefer flying Porsche. Would look v. good to travel to work in. Would make co-workers even more jealous of self).

Will smack son on head with cane when see son next!

Son has strategically forgotten purchase of seven broomsticks for son and team and am very keen to direct full force evil glare at greedy, grasping little brat that son is. If son was smart and evil, as he claims, son would steal car!

Want to glare at someone.

Am in v. good glare mood, but have no target and wife is still in fragile state.

Also, must attend meeting this afternoon.

V. boring.

Will take snake cane for amusement's purpose and will strategically position cane to distract chief speaker at meeting.

Have sneaking suspicion that petting head of cane will work a treat.

Find it v. amusing to cause distraction, esp. with v. nifty snake cane!

Other Ministry people admire cane. Have suspicion that my presence is requested at many meetings simply so cane will also be in attendance. Cane is venerated among other Ministry types.

Will taunt them with it! 

However, while talented at taunting and fondling cane, will not taunt sufficiently to be ganged up on by group of mad Aurors or be Avada'd by fellow co-workers, who desire cane for themselves.

Considering it, cane is v. v. v. popular, yet cane looks evil.

Sod that!

Cane **is** evil!

Cane possesses dark and v. seductive, v. evil power that draws all weak-minded fools to it with desire to possess it for selves! And cane is mine, all mine! Am in possession of the one cane.

And have just realised that I am first person to succumb to cane's power.

Bugger.

Am not weak-minded fool!

Will stop writing now, before making self look stupider. 

~*~

****

September 3rd 1992

__

Hair fine and NOT TOO LONG! (Wife desires to cut hair and dye sections of it black! Can not perform glamorously fiendish hair flip if hair is short and looks like a badger's arse!). Evil glare suitably menacing (keeping wife at bay with wand). Robes replaced with suit (look v. dashing). Arse could do with work.

Am bored.

Am v. v. bored.

Despite desire to push son in path of falling tree, am missing son's feeble attempts at evil glares over breakfast and having chance to show son real evil glare and make him fall under table in terror.

Day feels oddly empty.

Not even glaring at co-workers matches glaring at and taunting of son. 

Am missing having target.

Was so desperate to direct evil glare at worthy target that I resorted to mirror on wife's dresser in bedroom. Mirror laughed at patheticness of evil glare and made self feel even more depressed than before.

Mirror now in pieces.

Will have to explain to wife.

Glared at shards of broken mirror.

Broken shards also laughed.

Am bored and depressed.

Aha!

Will find Fudge!

Fudge is always amusing target for evil glare, as Fudge has v. odd delusion that wife and self are respectable citizens and having an evil glare directed from self is an unnerving experience for silly old plonker.

Fudge is only Ministry person able to receive full evil glare, as is so stupid that is not aware that evil glare is truly evil. 

Believe Fudge will honestly be surprised when Dark Lord arrives to kill him (Dark Lord hated Fudge (and toffee, but is unimportant now). Dark Lord v. jealous of anyone with hair (esp. self), but Dark Lord v. v. v. jealous of anyone with v. good hair in v. stupid style like Fudge) and wife and self are standing in background waving pompoms and flags.

Will invest in cheerleader costume after all.

For wife, of course!

Wife will dislike idea, naturally. Wife despises female exploitation, esp. of herself, so will be forced to win her round with nice words, flattering promises, charisma and charm and, if all fail, then will resort to imperius.

Evil glare no longer works on wife.

Wife is immune.

Other Ministry people receive chin-tilted-cynical-raising-of-eyebrow-combined-with-sneer glare (is v. effective glare and can be performed without risk of being arrested as is case with full power evil glare) but Fudge...

Fudge will receive evil glare.

Fudge also has strange affection for cane and have been forced on several occasions to smack him on knuckles for trying to filch cane. Only made matters worse. Suspect that Fudge likes being smacked on knuckles.

Will take cane and glare evilly at Fudge, while fondling cane. Suspect it will provide an interesting reaction. Am evil on so many levels!

Will write later on success of experiment.

~*~

****

September 24th 1992

__

Hair torn out in clumps (frustration not new fashion trend). Evil glare directed at house elf (one with long hard nose - cannot forget nose. Arse still quivers in terror at memory of nose). Robes on body and looking good. Arse ready to be strutted around house in triumph.

Have got Dia...er...Chronicles back!

Bloody house elf filched book three weeks ago and finally caught the little bugger.

In weeks since last wrote, have been turning house upside down to find little book but only found it when house elf resorted to explosives in attempt to break past sealing spells and locks on book.

Many explosions from kitchen and house elf blasting through the wall into breakfast this morning, with book gripped in hands confirmed suspicion that house elf was up to something (Am so smart to notice these things!).

Ha! 

Stupid house elf outwitted not by v. complicated spells to protect precious Chronicles, but by small, pink, plastic, heart-shaped padlock on book! (Is **v. v. v. v**. butch pink heart-shaped padlock!)

When asked why he nicked book, house elf claims it was looking for more news on plots against Harry Potter (must remember name! Must!), but am seriously sceptical of house elf's claim.

Believe that house elf was searching for blackmail material re. self's own opinion of son, wife and ministry people, so house elf might be able to try and bribe better working conditions for self.

House elf too stupid to come up with plan to save Harry Potter by self.

House elf v. v. silly.

Will glare some more, as was forced to enter house elf quarters much to disgust of self and found other house elves having raucous party after someone spiked drinks with butterbeer (am certain elf-stripper was present. V. disturbing for self). Was forced to break party up and felt sufficiently evil when doing so.

Managed to resist urge to cackle in evil fashion. 

Settled for evil smirk as house elves complained.

Also found out where Twister game was. Have a bunch of kleptomaniacs as unpaid staff! Would fire them all, but is so much easier to smack them around with cane and evilly glare (Actually, am v. evil. Have cast spell on Twister board so that v. stupid house elves can not stop playing Twister until I say so. Am way too evil for mere mortal comprehension! Go me!).

Anyway, must deal with chief klepto and make notes to keep Chronicles somewhere less obvious in room.

Have decided that under pillow is obviously most secure place (will place anti-house-elf spells around bed to protect book (and wife from nose)). Am still v. amused that stupid house elf was foiled by padlock.

Do believe house elf deserves to be kicked down stairs for being thieving little sod.

Impressive!

House elf didn't bounce until second bottom step!

V. good range!

Believe that new shoes and pure, unfettered rage were conducive.

Have missed Chronicles and house elf has learned lesson about pinching Master's favourite book.

Will be sure to keep Chronicles updated regularly.

Now, though, will have fun with torture session, then hide book safely in bed.

Will write more later - for now, must continue to issue punishment and wrath on all unfortunate underlings, while looking v. glamorous and dashing, with v. pretty hair and v. pretty arse.


	5. News

The Chronicles of Lucius

News

Notes: Whoohoo! I got niffled on fictionalley! (Humour me, those of you who don't know what I'm babbling about).Thank you, webba! You have succeeded in making me utterly hyperactive for several days :D I hope you're pleased with yourself ;) 

And now, back to the fic, which is still the fault of my flatmate (and she expects to have blame directed at her - thank you for the poster by the way - Mmm...Snapey goodness ;)). I'm a bit...off on the dates here and there mainly because we don't get specifics, so I'm making guesses and using little snippets from both the book and film of CoS (mainly because Lucius in the film inspired this - "Duh!" I hear you cry!) to try and keep in the timeline as much as possible. 

_________________________

****

September 30th 1992

__

Hair average. Evil glare on maximum without target (because a) son is stupid little bimbo and b) son is not present to be glared at until he whimpers!). Robes look rather mussed due to pacing. Arse normal.

How could self spawn such an idiot!

Son has been running around school calling other pupils insulting names that will make people suspect that self is muggle-hating dark wizard, because son knows names that no 'good' child should (all wizard children know it, even if parents do not admit it - 'mudblood' is common playground insult. Trust stupid, wimpy muggle-borns to take it personally). 

True that I am muggle-hating dark wizard, but that is not the point! 

Son should know better than saying anything like that in public, esp. if son really wants to be sneaky, evil, cunning bastard like self! Son has now practically positioned a great big flashing sign with "Muggle-hating Dark wizard here!" over head of self and wife!

Wife can tolerate flashing sign (because wife is thick), but now, desire to whack son on head with cane is growing.

Will inform son - in polite letters - that more subtlety is required, and then, when son returns home, will whack him around the head with cane for being a little twit! 

Believe that son got brains from wife.

Or lack of brains.

Grr.

On amusing note, wife has been seduced by feminism.

Wife believes that she is oppressed and has started wearing v. dungarees and has had her hair cropped 'for the cause'. All in all, wife looks utterly ridiculous, although all women in group look just as absurd.

Am rather suspicious, though, as wife seems very friendly with person called Doreen, who looks v....er...v. butch.

Will not read into it.

Esp. since wife returns hair to natural length and returns to girly dresses again when feminist meetings are over. 

However, have been at receiving end of numerous dark and sinister glares when group meets at mansion. 

Suspect they are intimidated by irresistibly lustable figure of dominant manliness that self presents. Have feeling that self proves a temptation for many of them, although will have to find out what the term "self-wanking jerk-off" means. 

Am sure it is a compliment in crude American fashion. 

Am amused by quaintness of wife's American 'Witches Lib' friends.

However, do hope that they will stop having meetings in self's house. Would like to be able to beat up house elves without being watched by avid audience. It does prove something of a distraction.

Will write again soon, as wife has just decided to show Doreen around house and have just remembered that I left helpless cane unguarded in bedroom! Heaven help poor cane if Doreen found him!

Not that I am making assumptions about Doreen, of course!

Will write later!

~*~

****

October 7th 1992

__

Hair pink (desire to kill wife is returning). Evil glare muted by deep embarrassment at colour of hair (despise pink. Pink is girly colour. Definitely want to kill wife. Must remain out of sight until spell is reversed. Will plot wife's doom until then). Robes no longer match hair due to overt pinkness (Also v. embarrassing - wife has delusional idea that she is a bloody comedienne). Arse only good thing left.

Have decided something.

Actually, have decided several things.

One. Divorce is too simple.

Two. Wife must die slow and silly death within next few days if precious hair does not return to normal (or if shagging is cancelled due to wife laughing hysterically at hair colour again).

Three. Wife likes to be spanked with cane and therefore am deeply disturbed by wife on the whole. Would have considered spanking a punishment, but wife liked it. Wife's enthusiasm also had greater embarrassing side effect.

Will try and work out at later date why self had odd compulsions to yell "Whose your King, baby?" at wife. Wife found it...kinky. Self found it hugely embarrassing, esp. with pink hair.

Back to decisions that have been made.

Several more involve death of wife.

Mode of death undecided as yet.

Hope son will not mind.

Actually, bollocks that.

Don't give a monkey's knob if son minds. 

Son did not have hair dyed neon pink by experimental spell with no known reversal spell by bloody wife, when self mocked her W.L. group and their stupid hair.

Grr.

Hair is NOT meant to be pink and flashing.

Hair does not look evil and glamorous when tossed.

Hair makes self look like a hippy poofter. 

On plus side, finally managed to remove magically-attached ribbons, so hair isn't in little pigtails anymore. 

Was hugely embarrassed when Fudge paid visit to house (did not show it, though - evil bastards show no embarrassment and am highly experienced in skill of hiding humiliation. See what I am married to for details).

Yes, yes, yes...

Must plot wife's impending doom.

Threatened house elf (one with big nose, irritating little creature) several times and felt a little better.

Have also decided that Avada is too good for wife. 

Wife must suffer for torment inflicted on self! 

Have toyed with idea of taking away wife's money and clothing away and forcing her to live with Weasleys. Would consider that great torture, but wife is perverse.

Wife would probably like it.

Should wife accidentally get hit by avada, though, would not be too distraught (would be able to raid wife's bank account and buy whole new sets of wardrobes! Would be v. spiffy, esp. if insurance came in on wife as well! Would have plenty for whole new wardrobe room!)

Am not sure how accidental it would look to Ministry, as Avada is v. hard to cast by accident (have heard that one Death Eater did so with wand in his pocket and accidentally blasted himself off cliff. Made impressive 'splut' noise on rocks. Was highly amused) but am sure that self-defence is suitable plea, considering emotional trauma inflicted on self and physical trauma inflicted on hair.

Oh!

Also have made decision to write Chronicles once a week, during hour when wife attends her Witches Liberation meeting, so as not to be disturbed.

Wife is deeply stupid.

If witches were liberated, wife would no longer be able to boss self and son around and wife would have to do her own banking. 

Sincerely hope that Witches are never liberated, as self would miss chance to skim from wife's bank balance and would run out of funding v. quickly. Not good.

Wife is home already. Suggests that Witches will have to wait for at least one week for liberation. Will go and poke fun at her for lack of progress in her evil scheme for freedom. Will write more next week. 

~*~

****

October 15th 1992

__

Hair back to normal (YESSSSSSSS! No more bloody pink pigtails!). Evil glare non-existent (due to relief of hair being back to normal colour). Robes look absolutely spectacular! Arse looks million times better than usual!

Have been striding around Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley since morning, looking fabulous, with precious, lovely, beautiful, wonderful hair looking better than it has in weeks (and no bloody ribbons anywhere in sight! Despise ribbons with passion! Will never allow another ribbon to touch self's hair, if at all possible).

Received some jealous looks over spiffy hair, robes and cane and couldn't conceal smug-evil grin (is toned down version of full power evil-evil grin and therefore, self can not be arrested. If self attempted to perform evil-evil grin in public, self would be tossed in Azkaban, cos self looks like supreme super-evil bastard! Go me!)

Am feeling much better about self now.

And wife not so bad either.

Bought self new set of black robes and pair of v. spiffy black shades that make self look v. utterly lickable (perfect for attracting respectable purebloods witches in v. v. skimpy clothing (preferably) while driving in Porsche when it arrives - am not deluding self! Am sure Porsche will arrive for Christmas!)

Ah, the Porsche...

Have started dropping subtle hints to wife once more.

Have stuck large pictures of appropriate Porsche (pretty, shiny and silver with v. nifty snake drawn on front - snake v. important - looks v. stylish and v. subtly evil) on every mirror in house (despite protests of mirrors - will make note to break them all when Porsche arrives and get new, less whiny ones) since wife seems to like looking in mirrors a lot.

If wife does not take v. subtle hints, will think about having her lobotomy reversed. 

Have also received Christmas wish-list from son.

Am rather worried about son's taste as son has requested 'Hand of Glory' once again and claims it is for...personal use.

Will try not to read into it.

Son is still young and innocent.

Son had BETTER be innocent (in _that_ way, at least. Son can be v. evil, fiendish and nasty little git but can not allow son to beat self's record for bonking for the first time at fourteen - am so naughty! And with a teacher! Am a rebel! Go me!)

On plus side, if son wants Hand of Glory, son is having no luck in getting any, which means son won't take record. Unfortunately, this also suggests that son is repulsive little toad, if son can't get any.

Suspect that son's UST with green-eyed Pot boy is to blame.

If son is thus inclined, will beat in own head with cane.

Ack! 

Wife is back early again!

Will write next week!

~*~

****

October 23rd 1992

__

All good - no time for notes!

Buggeration with a cherry on top!

Wife has decided that Witch Liberation is pointless!

Wife has just realised that she is rich, spoiled and has need of nothing, therefore has lost all desire to be liberated.

Damnit!

Have now lost time for writing in Chronicles without wife suspecting something!

Will find new meetings promoting some stupid cause for wife to attend and will write more next week, without wife licking neck! Wife is highly distracting creature when she wants to be!

~*~

****

November 1st 1992

__

Hair glamorous and wonderful (just like self!). Evil glare switched to evil-smug-smirk mode. Robes casual. Arse getting used to the feeling of knowing that it's going to be sitting at Dark Master's right hand, when Dark Master returns! (AT! AT Master's right hand! Not on! Would not advise thinking that...ick...)

Am SO bad!

Am evil!

Am cunning!

Go me!

Sneaky evil plot worked!

Hurrah!

Apparently diary of Dark Master (Find it highly amusing the Dark Master calls his journal by girly name of 'diary', but then Dark Master always was a bit...odd. Dark Master likes sparkly sticks and apparently cried like a girl at something called Bambi. Am beginning to wonder why self is so intimidated by him) did find it's way into Hell and has now been responsible for bloody graffiti!

Is a slow start, but am sure that bloody graffiti is better than no graffiti at all.

Son was delighted to report it. 

Graffiti read - The Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware.

Self would have been more creative in phrasing of threats (Personal preference would have been "Die, muggle scum, DIE!" but am not Dark Master and therefore, do not question his long-winded ways of approaching business).

Son also mentioned something about a cat looking v. dead.

Is possible that dark Master's lttle pet was playing peekaboo again. Have heard that Basilisks make v. loveable pets and are v. obediant.

Is v. unfortunate that if you look at basilisk, you die. Would be rather difficult to form owner-pet relationship with poor creature. Must have very lonely lives.

However, will not mope on that now! Am truly evil bastard! Boring lives of snakes mean nothing to me (except now, when adorable little snake is apparently being used as key to Dark Master's return. Hope Dark-master-in-diary knows what he's doing. Yes, snake has been kept indoors for long time, but now really isn't appropriate time to take it for walkies!).

At least, though, Chamber is open and plot is in progress.

Am v. pleased that plot is coming together.

If little red-haired bimbo from big (and v. poor and unstylish) family is thick as self suspects, Dark Master will return by Christmas.

If not, self will always have nice new Porsche to keep self busy.

Am torn between having horn that plays "La Cuacuaracha" or the v. spiffy, v. evil and v. intimidating Imperial theme from something called "Star Wars". Would like to have theme for self, but, alas, am not yet evil enough.

At least, cannot let the world know that I am uber-evil git!

Self would be thrown in Azkaban, which would mean that self would lose wardrobe and hair-care products. 

And cane!

While am happy to be out and open evil bastard and to kill left, right and centre, am not yet ready to part with cane. Is v. v. precious to me. Evil cane. Lovely, precious, delightful and v. evil cane. Mmm...caney...

Ahem!

Will stop playing with cane, until Chronicle entry is complete.

In other news, wife is currently absent.

Actively encouraged her to join a group called "Knitters Anonymous". Tried to sound like I was interested when she talked about it and ploy worked. Wife now attends KA meetings twice weekly, much to self's relief.

Wife's absence meant that self dancing around house, singing "Simply the best" to self (due to delight at success of initial stages of evil-diary plan!) went unnoticed by everyone except house elf with long nose, who gave self funny look before somehow being kicked across the room. 

Can't work out how that happened, but house elf bounces v. well.

Am enjoying quietness of house, but must finish writing now. 

Must polish cane.

Mmm...

Evil cane.


	6. Sporting Chance

The Chronicles of Lucius

Sporting Chance

Notes: All right, all right, I admit I meant to take a break for a while before writing/ posting this, since I'm meant to be doing reading for my dissertation (I have the books on my desk - that's progress, isn't it?). However, on LUST, I recalled something I was going to use in this chapter regarding Dobby, then I remembered what had to lead into that scene and I simply couldn't let it lie.

Plus, hey! Its easy to write!

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November 5th 1992

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Hair in perfect condition (spent two hours at hair-care specialist in order to look enviably glamorous - am v. evil! Made everyone else around self look less than adequate! Esp. poofy-bearded Gandalf-wannabe Go me!). Evil glare substantially sated (saw son - used up evil glare quota and disappointed look quota within ten minutes). Robes much better than everyone around me (Again, am evil, by making others seethe with jealous rage. However, must learn to pick better accessories. Fuzzy hat apparently v. amusing to pupils. Will find something more evil next time). Arse numb from sitting on bloody hard seats.

Had rather boring duty today.

As self is seen as sponsor of son's sport team (note to self - will never buy toys for son's friends again - leads to all manner of other boring duties), self was expected to make an appearance and look suitably proud as son and friends managed to play with balls better than green-eyed boy's team.

Will not read into it.

All right, will read into it.

Find it deeply disturbing that favoured game in wizarding world involves two groups of people with large, flying phallic symbols between legs chasing and throwing balls around to each other. 

However, deemed to go to game to make everyone else look cheap and unglamorous when compared to self.

After all, am evil and rubbing in fact that self is so much more glamorous and pretty than everyone else in boxes is v. effective way of showing how evil self is esp. since self can still look v. evil while wearing possibly dodgiest hat on the planet. 

Was a nice hat, at one point. 

Was also - at one point - wife's familiar, Mog. 

Mog was little bastard who chewed self's hair and clawed self's cane. Self and Mog never saw eye-to-eye (usually cos self was hurling Mog across room, to keep Mog away from precious hair and cane). 

Mog - sadly - had tragic run in with a steam roller, resulting in nice, fuzzy hat. 

Had great difficulty in comprehending how poor Mog somehow fell into strategically placed vat of unstickable glue on road and got stuck, while self was test-driving said steam-roller.

Self really wasn't very good driver at said point.

Had self been better driver, self would have hit Mog first time.

In purely accidental way of course.

Really hated that bloody cat.

However, did provide self with rather novel fuzzy hat.

Something happened to hat, when self was in Diagon Alley last week - believe wife tried some kind of spell to animate hat more, as prank on self for mocking wife's knitting, and hat went mad and tried to maul wife. 

Pity that hat failed - would have been interesting cause of death to tell Ministry of Magic - mauled to death by reanimated cat-hat.

Plus, could not have been connected to self in any way.

Unfortunately, wife survived and has learned not to play tricks with pieces of clothing with claws.

From looks of things, wife had to beat hat down with shovel to pacify it (or kill it - am not certain which), so hat has assumed v. bizarre triangular prism shape and is no longer round with v. funny pointy ears and tail.

Anyway, back to showing off.

One always must wear hat at sporting events in wizarding world - looks v. dashing. 

Is kind of similar to muggle concept of showing off clothing at something called 'Az Cot' (sounds load of bloody nonsense to self), except have been informed that only female muggles wear hats.

Stupid muggles.

Men look v. nice in hats.

Self should know.

Because self IS man! Not because self looks at others for comparisons! (Except to check that self looks better than others!)

Also, is bonus to sit next to someone who looks...well...bad.

Was seated next to slimy-git house Master of son.

Is clear to self that House Master has yet to start using anonymously sent bottles of shampoo and bubble bath. Hair and skin still awful. Didn't even wear a hat, but had stupid, fingerless gloves on.

Must send him anonymous tips about suitable accessorising to sporting events.

Am sure that Snape is Goth. 

Already wears black at all times, has dull, lank hair as befits Goth, looks like he has a stick painfully wedged up arse to make him perpetually bitter and also has odd, Gothy smell hanging around him.

Alternatively, funny smell could be his home-brewed perfume.

Tried to ignore it as much as possible.

Fortunately, he didn't ask self is self wanted to try sample.

Have learned from experience (had to grow half skin on neck back) that perfumes made by Snape are not pleasant to smell or touch.

Am rather worried about his interest in cosmestics.

Suspect that he would probably wear obscene amounts of make-up if it didn't reduce credibility as evil-slimy bastard. 

For record - Snape is one of Dark Master's evil minions and uses 'evilness' as excuse to avoid baths. Evil is v. hygienic and should be v. good-looking where possible! Greasy git cannot grasp this concept! 

However, on plus side for him, Snape almost looks better and more evil than self in black, which self finds v. depressing (although Snape has no evil cane and is v. bitter about it). 

Am comforted to know, though, that self is far sexier than Snape. Snape has big nose, bad hair and dodgy skin. Ha!

Am so evil to poke fun at misfortunes of others.

Anyway, back to game.

Was v. disturbed to see son so gleeful with big stick between legs.

Distracted self with cane for a while.

Good, loyal, evil cane.

Game did become rather entertaining, though.

Large black ball decided to chase green-eyed Pot boy and self saw son taunting Pot-boy for trying out for ballet (How son knows about ballet, would rather not know. Am concerned enough about son's obsessions with balls), even though it was blatantly obvious to self that boy was far better flyer than son.

Must admit that game got rather exciting when big black ball started hitting people!

Boy and son disappeared down into gutter around pitch. Am sure son was yelling something about Pot-boy catching him in very...worrying tone of voice (Will not think of what they were doing down there, when no one could see them). 

When son emerged, son promptly crash-landed straight onto bollocks.

Was rather concerned, but when self attempted to lean over to see son, self got whiff of House Master's rather niffy potion and promptly had to look the other way for fear of being sick.

Pot-boy got hit by v. large ball and fell off broom, but apparently not before catching small gold ball and winning game. Was v. confused since son's team was leading up until then and boy caught one ball and won whole game...

Will have to try and learn rules of game some time in future, so self does not have to pretend to be studying cane when discussions about whether a pass was 'legal' come up in box and in pub, post-game.

On plus side, being armed with cane does stop people asking stupid questions and even if self's answer makes no sense, cane intimidates people so much that no more questions are asked. 

Is v. useful.

Got back to Manor fairly early.

Avoided seeing son, for fear of him speaking in squeaky, girl-like voice. Have enough about son to disturb me and did not need said visual.

Told wife about game (wife is follower of game, but had to miss it for K.A. meeting) and noticed house elf (with long nose) looking v. pleased about something. House elf must not have been aware that self attended sporting events.

If self was concerned about others, self would be rather worried about fact that, after son returned to school, self walked into elf quarters and found long-nosed elf ironing his hands.

Wish some decent help could be found. Help that realises that you are meant to iron clothes, not hands! Have wondered why clothing seems to be returning to wardrobes in less than uncreased condition.

Perhaps house elf had wrinkly skin on hands and was attempting to achieve skin as smooth as self.

Thinking on it, have noticed that many house elves do seem to have some very strong sado-masochistic tendencies, when house work is not done well. Esp. long-nosed, big-eared creature.

Have witnessed one slamming his ears in oven doors.

Unless this is some trick for flattening already flat ears, am rather bemused by it.

Admittedly, self is known for hurling death threats around house, but never imagined that house elves liked being beaten up. Would have stopped kicking them around house, if self knew it...

Am hoping that I am mistaken.

Could not be possible that house elves are THAT perverse.

Note to self - make certain that house elves actually dislike pain before inflicting more upon them.

Would not like to be known as a satisfier of house elves and their kinky pleasures.

Is far too disturbing a thought to contemplate.

Best finish entry now, before wife comes to bedroom (wife is strangely turned on by discussions of balls used in game and will no doubt to have a wild shag - is almost a decent reason for going to games more often).

On plot note, before finishing, no news yet from son, but cat is still petrified.

Am v. amused.

Cats are nasty sods.

Have also informed son of things teachers won't tell of Chamber of Secrets.

Son now knows it was opened before and someone died. Am v. amused that self has set son a challenge - hopefully, son will use cunning and wit and shall investigate and learn more about Chamber's earlier opening.

Somehow doubt it will happen, but can always hope that son has genuine aspirations to be evil bastard.

Will write when more news on plot comes in from son (or when self is seen looking v. dashing in public - must keep tabs on how many jealous looks self gets, when self goes out in public).

~*~

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November 7th 1992

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Hair good (still suffering minor windswept effects of sitting in box for game the other day). Evil glare replaced with v.-wide-and-manic-grin-of-evil-glee (will explain shortly). Robes gone as self is in jacuzzi to write this (Wife will be joining self in short time. Mmm. Bubbles). Arse comfortable.

Received word from son today that there has been progression with plot (although son is unaware that self was instigator of plot, because self knows that if son knew, son would use knowledge to evilly taunt people and would inevitably give self away. Am not keen on Azkaban, thus kept information from son).

Son informed self in letter (after self scanned through twenty pages of ranting about how unfair game was, esp. since Pot-boy won - son must face up to UST or else son will seem like bitter, twisted little bitch for rest of life. Would much prefer son as evil bastard) that a mudblood Gryffindor has been petrified.

Believe that Basilisk may need new batteries.

After all, basilisks are fatal pets, but petrification is v. much...not fatal.

V. disappointing.

Perhaps basilisk needs glasses, so it can see.

After all, is v. old and has been locked in dark hole for fifty years.

However, must admit that it is amusing that person is petrified.

After all, is only a matter of time before someone dies and petrification is v. scary for poor teachers in Hell. 

Am really v. sympathetic towards them (or so self must appear. A governors meeting has been called next week - must practise looking sympathetic) and am sure that Gandalf-wannabe is feeling v. unnerved that he has something stiffer than him (And ick! Not in that way!) in his school.

Am still rather impressed that evil plan is working.

Would have suspected that Weasley-man would have advised precious children against stupidity of writing in book that writes back, but apparently Weasely-child is thicker than anyone anticipated.

Also (v. excited about this) have come up with some additional contingency plans if plot looks like its starting to lose power.

Will get rid of Gandalf-wannabe!

Will be utter triumph!

If more petrifications occur (will inform Dark Master on his return to full power that he had better find himself a new and more deadly pet as Snake seems to be getting on a bit...) will go to Governors and convince them that old fart is past his sell by date.

Governors will agree with self and will sign letter to get old fart sacked.

Self will then present letter to him (with hair looking spectacular of course) and rub in fact that self has authority (and better hair) while old twit in poofy dressing gowns with dodgy beard is out on his ear.

Am really hoping it will come to this.

Have been unable to v. evilly rub in fact that self has far better hair for v. long time (mainly because grumpy old nit refused to talk to me when self was at school, due to hair envy).

However, am also hopeful that snake will do it's job properly.

But only after self has had a chance to poke fun at old twit's poofy hair.

Wife has arrived.

Better finish, before she finishes undressing.

Wife really is v.

.

.

.

P.S. Is later on - finished abruptly when wife dropped all her clothes. Was v. distracted and almost dropped Chronicles in jacuzzi Will try not to do it again.


	7. Not Bloody Fun

The Chronicles of Lucius

Not Bloody Fun

Notes: I wanted to do one more chapter before the Christmas one, so here it is - and can we tell what kind of mood our dear Lucius is in? :)

Oh and just so you know, I've finally seen The Patriot, in which Mister Isaacs stars as a super-evil baddie. Highly recommend it and quite a few little things in this emerge from that film. As always, intertextuality is a must :D

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November 18th 1992

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Hair straight and rather...crispy (will elaborate soon). Evil glare directed at evil hair tongs (Not as satisfying as glaring at animate object, but have no desire to be seen in public with hair in present condition). Robes also rather...crispy (house elf missed hands and burnt robes. Grr. Will smack him upside head soon). Arse square (due to over-starched long-johns - bloody house elf really not impressing self at present). 

Has been a long day.

Worst part, though, is only lunchtime now.

Decided that self would tidy out wardrobes and get rid of things of less value. In a monetary sense, of course - v. evil bastards such as self do not possess feeble and weak sentimental emotions.

However, did find Pooky, self's old teddy bear. 

Was reminded of good times, when father took young self and Pooky to muggle-hunts and self used Pooky to beat muggles senseless. Muggles v. v. stupid creatures and laughed when self approached with Pooky. 

Muggles thought self was an adorable and beautiful little boy.

All right, maybe muggles were right about that, but muggles also made v. stupid assumption of thinking that self was harmless little angel and that Pooky was not a deadly weapon.

Muggles unaware that Pooky contained a ten pound mace in his fuzzy wuzzy green and blue striped belly. Was and am so v. evil and sneaky. Must congratulate self more often on supreme evilness!

However, joy at finding Pooky was significantly reduced when self also found that Pooky's mace tips were still sharp.

Bloody painful too.

After finding a bandage and putting Pooky in a box, self found another old toy.

Hair-straighteners.

Such things are works of Dark Lord himself, as vengeance for all people who dare to have good hair, while Dark Lord is bald as a coot.

Took great effort not to mock Dark Lord about distinct lack of hair, although mutters of 'cue ball' were cause of great temper tantrums when Dark Lord called Death Eaters together. 

Was v. amusing to watch Dark Lord stamp his feet and wail like tortured muggle because of lack of hair to put...ahem... pretty ribbons in. Am v. dubious about Dark Lord's butch manliness esp. re. squealing like a little girl when something called 'Snow White' was on something called a 'tilivision'.

Dark Master claimed it was evil and am prone to agree.

Girl of title is clearly some kind of succubus, using innocent charms to seduce all animals of the forest to her (was rather nauseated by overuse of large, 'innocent' eyes and gaspy little girly voice. Not to mention close relationship girl developed with creatures after - apparently - partaking in hallucinogenic substances) and then, stupid little girl performed the same feat with seven muggles with growth deficiencies. 

"How do you do?" is not good thing to say when you wake up in strange house with seven horny men letching on you, esp. when you are in THEIR beds. Is clear that 'Snow White' is about as pure as driven over (with Porsche!) gutter slush.

Indecent. 

Absolutely perverse.

When Dark Master returns, must inquire as to the genre that this...story fits in. There are so many horrific elements: narcotic abuse of some kind resulting in hallucinations of trees coming to life, bestiality, polygamy (one succubus girl, seven men, one house, communal bathing - of course they were just...friends. Especially that...Dopey creature. Have no doubts whatsoever as to why he looked so dopey - all brains were expunged when he...no. Will not even go there).

Of course, because the bloody girl can't chew her food and chokes (Yes, apple was poisoned, but find that completely irrelevant, as charming, talented witch was clearly trying to rid the world of evil succubus creature), poor witch is blamed and falls off cliff due to typical bloody deus ex machina. 

Am convinced that this 'Snow White', which Dark Lord mooned over, is truly a great example of horror. Am truly sorry for poor witch, prejudiced against because she does not go to effort of seducing seven short men and has a close affinity with mirror.

Was evil story. 

Truly evil.

Do recall Dark Master insisted that corporation which made 'Snow White' (called 'Diznee') was under his command. Having seen some of the terror-inducing images produced by said company, am almost on verge of agreeing with Dark Master.

A hippopotamus in frilly tutu was potentially most disturbing thing that self has ever seen (after Dark Lord in tutu, of course, but believe that was Dark Lord's intention, as Dark Lord couldn't possibly be THAT girly...)

Previous considerations about Dark Lord's obsession with hair and stick also support feeling of unease.

I mean, Dark Lord's obsession with SPARKLY stick. Sparkly stick! Not evil, snake-headed stick of self!

Self's stick is adequately evil to not be equated with girly Dark Lord.

However, advantage of Dark Lord's somewhat...girly nature did give Dark Side one advantage that self could not have provided: bitter, twisted PMS-ing snake-faced Overlord with great fashion sense.

Note - Self could have provided fashion sense for Dark Side, but did not want to detract from Dark Lord's one attribute, so settled for subtle evil mocking of Dark Lord's shiny noggin. 

Fortunately, am v. sneaky and did not get caught saying this out loud. 

One foolish Death Eater did get caught - Dark Master inflicted most vile punishment upon him - performing magic shows for muggle children. 

Is v. v. v. v. evil, as muggle children are even more evil than standard evil wizarding children, due to natural bitterness inherent in being a sub-species.

They don't realise this though. 

Only we, the superior and prettier beings, notice this.

However, getting back to evil hair straighteners that self mentioned a little earlier in entry, self - being powerful dark wizard - assumed that Dark Hair Straighteners would obey command of self.

Self was, for the first time, v. v. v. wrong.

Hair now looks like solid block and one side is longer than other. 

Have tried for hours to get both sides even. Hair is starting to go black and curl at the ends, thus, am not best pleased! Have just got rid of bloody pink and ribbons, only days ago and now, hair is totally ruined by v. evil hair-styling implements. 

Considered asking wife for assistance, as wife is also v. evil and wife may have better skill at handling Hair Straighteners of Doom.

However, that would mean admitting that self cannot control evil girly implements for styling hair (Self is not considered girly for utilising them! Self only used them to enhance butch and macho look of glamorous hair!).

Have decided not to show face for several days and hope for the best.

If wife decides to poke nose into bedroom, will hope that she does not notice funny burning smell.

Will go and apply large quantities of conditioner at present. Must salvage hair, as wife is arranging Christmas dinner parties and hair must be supremely pretty or else self will not be able to assume role as smug Overlord at 'do'.

On side note, am v. hopeful about Porsche.

Have found wife looking at pictures and commenting on how 'nice' the car is.

Fought urge to tell wife the Supreme-Demon-Vehicle-From-Hell-With-Roaring-Engines-and-big-shiny-wheels (would prefer it to be called 'Hellbeast', but suppose that self could lie to people that 'Porsche' means 'Demon on wheels' for suitably evil ring...) is not 'nice', but if agreeing with wife means that self gets Porsche, self will suffer said indignation for the next month.

Will be a struggle, but should self falter, self will be a gentleman to wife and use thoughts of Porsche to suffer through the days.

Should attempts to remain civilised fail, self will wipe her memory and convince her that self is a charming gentleman in every way, then - after self has evil-Porsche - will remind her of how evil self really is.

After all, am v. evil. Can not have people forgetting this!

Will write later.

~*~

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November 19th 1992

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Hair - still crunchy. Evil glare turned off for day (used up quota on house elves who dared to giggle at hair). Robes put aside in place of shirt and breeches (have no need to dress up, since have confined self to bathroom - will elaborate soon). Arse - cold and numb, but safe from bloody house elf. 

Take bad day of yesterday.

Double it.

Find badness of today.

Have had the misfortune of discovering that house elves believe that crispy hair is result of self-punishment and house elves are now starting to believe that self is more like them than ever.

Was winked at by one at breakfast time, when food was delivered to room.

Felt confused and nauseated.

Of course, was worse when one patted leg.

Was forced to kick him across room. 

Gyah...

Heard him cry 'Oh! Yes, Master! Kick me!' and immediately freaked! 

Am currently locked up in private bathroom, with several charmed locks, chains, booby traps and bars on door to keep horny house elves away from self. Wand is in hand in case one decides to gate-crash! 

Am now convinced that house elf with long hard nose has a crush on self and would like to obliviate self, but allegedly had a bit of a nasty accident last time I tried to self-obliviate (Apparently - I don't remember).

However, getting back to plans, must ask wife whether she has noticed any odd behaviour on part of house elves.

Probably not.

Wife is rather...blonde.

Unlike self, who is evilly blond. 

V. big difference.

Crap!

Someone is knocking at door! Like drums, drums in the deep...

Nooooooooo!

I can not get out! I can not get out! 

They are comi...

~*~

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November 21st 1992

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Hair back to normal (Finally! Actually found straightener-reversal procedure in the instruction manual of evil straightener on wife's suggestion. Well...um...am not thick! Self can not truly be expected to be Evil Mastermind at all times!). Evil glare directed at hard-nosed house elf (who seems to have realised that crush on self is absolutely NOT reciprocated, due to the fact that self ran screaming from house elf (in v. butch and manly manner, of course!)). Robes stylish.

Am in mood to go and strut in Knockturn Alley, as hair looks rather good.

Robes look even better than usual (perhaps because of several days withdrawal from them), although wife commented that they look like 'a horse blanket' and was forced to reply that I think they look...rather nice.

Mind you, self could wear a piece of string and make it look damn fine!

Oh, now that self is back to normal, self has managed to catch up on son re. plot to bring Dark Master back for shopping spre...er...to bring Dark Master back to take over the world in evil ways!

Apparently, all is quiet at school.

Son has been sending regular bitching reports about green-eyed boy. Have stopped reading them, of late, as all say same thing.

That son has no life whatsoever.

Am v. impatient about progress of plot and am v. disappointed that Basilisk has decided to stop playing hide and seek. 

Two petrifications do not equate signs of rise of Dark Lord and is less than imposing to stand over frozen people, when self could happily be standing over dead pupils and waving flag for Dark Master, looking v. stylish while doing so.

And only one pupil.

One child and one cat.

Gah.

Wonder if it would be a little too obvious to go up to school, kill a few people when no one is looking and sneak back out, then pretend to be shocked when news comes out that 'obviously' it was the Heir of Slytherin.

Unfortunately, would be too much like effort.

Plus Gandalf-wannabe is know-it-all and has nothing better to do than watch for dark wizards coming to try and take over the world. Am not entirely sure what old fool does, apart from sit in his office and make... 'wise' comments about stuff that is completely pointless.

Suspect he works on hair (to try and outdo self - pah! Will never happen!), but he still has to learn that split ends and beards...badbadbad!

If diary starts working again soon, am hoping that Dark Lord will be back in time for the post Christmas and New Year sales, so self can make up for missed NYC trip with him, as welcome back gesture.

As for now, must go and humour wife over seating arrangement for feast some time next week. 

Believe wife has invited bumbling nitwit Fudge out of respect for title of 'Minister of Magic', which will make meal v. v. v. amusing as self will practise quazi-evil-arch-browed-cool-look, while running hand over head of cane.

Is bound to get Fudge hot under collar, as Fudge is still fixated on stick. And self.

With house elves, women from wife's former Witches Lib group, Minister of Magic, other governors all fancying self's stunning arse, makes self wonder if there is a downside to being so lickable.

Hmm.

Nahhh.

Will write later. Must plot Fudge's humiliation and pretend to listen to wife.


	8. Hell At Home

The Chronicles Of Lucius

Hell At Home

Notes: I planned this chapter in the airport, when I was waiting for a flight to London and oy! The muse struck hard and fast - as it always does when I don't have a computer close at hand!

Also, for those of you who aren't on the L.U.S.T. list, we've come up with Lucius' father, Titus Malfoy, who is (in our 'special' world) played by Sean Connery. He's a madcap eccentric explorer and usually doesn't visit often. Needless to say, you will be meeting him in a short time ;)

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2nd December 1992

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Hair on the verge of being torn out in clumps already. Evil glare weakened in face of supreme-patriarchal-raised-eyebrow (Will elaborate soon). Robes changed to be impeccable, to avoid superior-eyebrow-raise of father. Arse should be elsewhere, where father is not.

Father arrived yesterday.

Without warning.

After all, it has been a while since father showed face.

If self had known that father was on his way home, would have cast invisible charm on house and skipped country for several months.

However, self was oblivious, until house elf (yes, long-nosed one) opened study door and let barking-mad father into house, with stupid explorer hat and robes on and cane in hand.

Wish self had ability to disappear at will.

Father was charming.

Until he opened his mouth, then all hopes of pleasant Christmas vanished down toilet.

Father, Titus Malfoy, is fruit loop. Has all brain capacity of a blueberry scone. Has a derisive and sarcastic nature (v. unlike self's - self is only ever derisive to people who deserve…well, everyone. Father is just mean!).

Father is also world explorer and has spent the last twenty-five years lost in Asia. 

Had hoped the confundus charm self placed on obnoxious and patronising father would mean he stayed lost a little longer, but suppose twenty-five years was pretty impressive since self was only fifteen at time.

Reason for confundus was that self told father self wanted father's cane (and Manor, but cane more important at the time), but father refused, so self simply had to get rid of him and now…

Bugger.

Wish self had bumped father off. 

Would have been so much easier.

Have also sent letter to son to inform him that his long-lost grandfather has finally returned and hope son will disregard horror stories self told of father, so son will return home and become new object of torment for father.

Am hoping self will be able to slip away quietly and father with be distracted by self's son and will be oblivious to self's departure.

Wife is delighted to finally meet illusive father-in-law, although self has not got round to mentioning fact that father still actually owns house that has been marital home for the last seventeen years.

Hope father's exploring will have wiped this from his mind, as am not particularly keen to give up v. spiffy house.

However, am sure old mad father is still malicious bastard (although now malicious bastard in stupid hat and robes - must make sure father is not seen in public - will never be able to show face again for shame) and will, no doubt, remember just because he knows that it will annoy self v. much.

Am sincerely hoping that father decides not to stay for long.

Have left brochures with pictures of various exotic climes, esp. ones with cannibals and lunatics as core population. Of course, self does not hope father will end up as a stew in the South Pacific.

A pie, maybe, but never a stew.

Father is too tough and gamey.

Would never want a nice cannibal to get a dodgy tummy because of annoying, stupid, dominating and eyebrow-raising father.

Actually, bugger that!

As long as father is out of life, self doesn't give a monkey's about whether a cannibal gets a jippy tummy! Self just wants to be dominant manly figure in house again and will not be able to do so until father is gone!

Is v. difficult to look manly when father smacks self on knuckles with cane.

Am not pleased.

Father's cane still looks v. superior to self's.

Admittedly, father's cane is 'accidentally' transfigured and somewhat psychotic first wife, Gertrude (self was born to father's second wife), who looks v. scary in photographs and inevitably made v. scary cane. 

Gertrude was allegedly a frightening old loon (perfect match for father, one would think) and apparently got accidentally transfigured by father when complaining about father not helping in house.

Am almost positive it was really an accident.

Really.

Esp. since father had been 'accidentally'... er... practising spell for several weeks on various miscellaneous aunts and uncles. 

Family now has rather impressive cane collection, as father never actually learned reversal spell. 

Actually, family now **_IS_** rather impressive cane collection. 

Should have added father to their number. 

Is v. slimming spell, according to father.

Plus, there is added tragedy of family-members-being-canes. Family-member-cane-person-thing cannot claim various inheritances, leaving self to claim them, which is real effort on self's part.

Hmm.

Must look for family address book. Am sure that self has a few too many cousins and really would like to be able to afford new wardrobe to match Porsche (which should be arriving this month! Whoo!) 

Actually, just had a thought (Father thinks he is highly amusing - no, it didn't hurt, thank you. No, it isn't lonely either. And NO! I'm not about to die of shock, father! Get away from my journal!)

Note to self: Next time self gets chance to curse father, use Avada. Preferably ASAP!

Anyway, back to thought self had - wife would make rather spiffy cane, esp. if cane had pretty blonde hair of wife, as self likes to stroke hair of wife v. often. Is v. pretty and shiny and soft and...

Got distracted by thought of fondling wife. 

Is certainly a good use of 'accidental' spell. Could almost pass as 'accidental' death of wife. V. tempting. Will consider it if Porsche does not arrive.

However, have suspicion that self's proper cane would be v. jealous if self went to another cane for walking and magic. Would not wish to cause offence to the evil cane, as self has already had enough problems with hair-straighteners of doom.

Wrathful cane is v. not good.

****

My cane ish shtill better than my idiot shun's .

Will write more tomorrow. When FATHER gets his own diary and stops trying to take over self's. Not that self has a diary! Self had Chronicles.

****

Keep deluding yourshelf, shun!

Finishing now.

Will kill father before next entry.

****

You wish, shun.

End entry.

****

Ditto what he shaid.

~*~

****

9th December 1992

__

Hair magically cropped (Bloody father!). Evil glare counteracted by patriarchal arched brow and smug glare of wife (No fair! They have joined forces, doubling points power of wife's glare and increasing annoyance factor of bloody father's brow raising). Robes look good (Ha! Something father can't pick on. Bloody twit look like he escaped from an asylum!). Arse - being picked on.

Hate father.

Hate wife.

Hate son.

Little bugger has decided not to come home this Christmas.

Sent a belated letter that he was staying at school because some v. interesting things have been happening. 

Pah.

Son changed his mind about coming home the day self informed him that his loving grandfather was here. 

Son is wuss. Son is afraid of meeting grandfather (can't have anything to do with fact that self told son that Grandfather eats little boys, who don't go to bed when they are told, for supper - was v. effective for getting little brat to stay in bed at night. Am such a good father!).

Have written back to son to inquire about v. 'interesting' happenings at school. 

If this means he that has seen Gandalf-wannabe naked in shower...ick...did not need that visual...If happenings are not plot-orientated, self will demand that son comes home immediately.

Ack! Father is approaching! 

Will write later, on son's return!

~*~

****

16th December 1992

__

Hair in mohican (v. amusing joke by father. V. amusing. Will kill him when he sleeps tonight). Evil glare in need of recharge (have used up force glare quota and gave dad a giggle. Grr. Why isn't self intimidating enough to annoy father?). Robes itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow and polkadot (Ha, father. Ha. Ha. V. funny). Arse itching to skip the country.

Son little sod.

Son also learning to be supremely malicious little git. He ended letter with: P.S. Have fun with grandfather, while I'm at school. I'm sure you will. 

Git.

Although, son does have valid excuse for staying.

Stupid blond teacher at school set up duelling club. Promotion of fighting in school hours. Am not v. impressed by control held by Gandalf-wannabe. Will complain to board about it (with much waving of cane, of course, to be sure that they listen. Or at least give self full attention). 

Am absolutely going to get fool expelled from school this year! Muaha! 

Am so super evil!

Anyway, back to son's excuse: Apparently, Pot-boy has ability to speak to snakes.

Son did trick to produce magic-snake (Will not read into son spraying squirming, wriggly things at green-eyed boy from his...er...wand. Is nothing vaguely kinky in it. Honestly) and it was going to attack pupils.

Even son can't do that right.

Green-eyed Pot-boy spoke to snake and stopped it from attacking.

Am sure there is something important about being able to talk to snakes.

Note to self: when Dark Master returns in a few weeks, listen to what he says more, rather than mentally critique his attempts at colour co-ordination (One wouldn't think it was possible to badly co-ordinate green on green, but somehow, Dark Master manages it).

So...Pot-boy is snake-talker.

Personally, would be more impressed if he could speak fluent get-rid-of-father-ese for self. Believe it would sound v. amusing and, if it worked, father...well, self would happily regard boy as saviour of wizarding world if green-eyed boy got rid of father.

Yes, Dark Master might be a little twitchy about self kissing green-eyed boy's feet, but am desperate! Precious hair is ruined again! Father seems to find it v. amusing to give self a different hair style every morning!

Mirror screamed in terror yesterday when it saw self with something known as a 'Princess Leia' hairdo, consisting of twisted ball of hair over each ear (**Acshully, shun, it wash shcreaming with laughter - don't flatter yourshelf with delushionsh of evilnesh, when I'm here!**).

Bloody father.

****

And, shun, I wash reading that letter from your boy. He sheems to like the Potter boy a lot, eh? He wrote hish name at leasht thirty timesh and twenty pagesh of letter about how Potter fell on his arshe...do you think your shun's gay?

Noooooooooooooo...

Will stop writing now, and not think of son that way! 

Will kill father!

NOW!

~*~

****

24th December 1992

__

Hair brushed. Evil glare replaced with giddy grin. Robes - replaced with pyjamas with little Santas all over them. Arse bouncing on windowsill.

Have just been released from body-bind (Father thought self was acting immaturely, so he bound self for four hours, after self hugged him...think self will have to practise the hug-offensive more often, if it upsets father. Although...could result in father using cruciatus...or leaving. Preferably leaving!).

Don't give a crap! 

It's Christmas eve! 

Porsche will arrive soon!

Whee!

Christmas is spiffy!

Can't wait!

If self sees Santa, self has a catapult on the roof to launch heavy objects at sleigh! Am sure that self can hit him at least once, just like last year. Heard that he had to replace one of the reindeer! 

Am so bad!

Will look even badder in a Porsche!

Wahey!

Will write tomorrow about Porsche!


	9. Christmas!

The Chronicles of Lucius

Christmas

Notes: *squeals* The Christmas chapter! Finally! As if the title of the chapter didn't give it away, eh? :) I actually had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of this chapter, but - like the previous ch. - I had the idea in the airport on the way to Sweden 2 weeks back. I must have looked a right odd-ball, sitting in the airport, giggling and scribbling stuff down in my pad.

_________________________

****

Christmas 1992

__

Hmpf.

No.

Bloody.

Porsche.

~*~

****

December 26th 1992

__

Hair braided all neat and pretty-like (wife did it to make up for disappointment. Think self looks v. dapper). Evil glare all spent yesterday (Father smacked self over head with cane and said self was acting like petulant brat. Stuck tongue out at him. Stupid father has no idea what he is talking about). Robes spiffy new ones (and v. nice, surprisingly) from wife's mother, Esme (managed to avoid having her present for Christmas dinner. V. relieved. Father is barking enough. Esme is ten times worse. V. frightening thought, having father and mother-in-law in same room). Arse better than it was yesterday (Wife was being a pain in arse. In every sense).

All right.

Maybe was a little...ungrateful yesterday.

Yes, Porsche did arrive.

However, self did have vague hopes that wife would realise that self actually wanted FULL-size car, instead of car of equal size to those shown in various posters self had applied to mirrors around house.

Am uncertain how arse (which is looking v. good indeed) is meant to fit into foot-long model of Porsche. Am sure self could find some kind of spell which would increase size of car.

Wizards always provide charms for enlargements of...ah...toys, as - despite what witches claim - size _does_ matter.

On plus side, snake was on front of car and looked v. spiffy.

Also, father's gift was a v. pleasant surprise.

Father recalled request for train set from twenty-five years ago and has finally brought one for self (Am willing to forgive the rather long wait, as it was sort of self's fault that father was lost in Asia for that period).

However, father ought to have provided warning that train set had been shrunk to fit container the size of sugar bowl.

Sudden expansion of minute-sized steam engine in living room as soon as self opened box was something of a surprise.

Wife was not best pleased about steam train squashing hideous purple couch (beloved to v. strange wife) that self has subtly been trying to destroy for years (For good karma of living room, of course! Not because it is an affront to anyone with...well...taste).

Am distraught over loss of couch.

Obviously.

Sob.

See?

Also, am rather concerned about how father managed to abscond with entire section of National Indian Railway line, along with steam train, several carriage and a few v. disorientated passengers.

Am sure that passengers were not meant to be included in gift of train set.

Did start to ask father about how it was possible and was patronisingly patted on head by father (obnoxious git!) and told "And that, shun, ish why I'm alwaysh going to be the besht wizard in thish family."

Was tempted to hex him for being annoying old fart, but recalled father is faster.

Will hex him later, when he is sleeping.

Or will knock him unconscious with large rock.

Depends on mood of self and since wife did not get another dia...er...journal for self, am feeling in quite generous mood, esp. since self is looking so v. dapper and dashing with hair in good, old-fashioned braid.

Father has just informed self (and sounded v. hurt when he approached self. Am nearly compelled to feel v. guilty about being ungrateful. Nearly) that he wishes to go outside and play with the muggle passengers of train, if self does not want them.

Oh!

Father did mean for self to have passengers!

Was a mode of father-son bonding!

Father is so spiffy! Wonder how self could ever have disliked him!

Will be back later! Have some muggles to chase around garden with sticks!

~*~

****

December 29th 1992

__

Hair all smooth and shiny (thanks to hair-care gift set from son. How well son knows self's taste. Self sent son another year's supply of hair-gel. Had to shrink it down to size of shoebox, as self suspected a ton crate containing many jars of hair gel would look v. suspicious. Would not wish to see son picked on for having nancy-boy hair gel he likes so much). Evil glare spent on muggle-games of a few days ago (made fat little man cry with one second of evil glare. Was v. amusing). Robes are practical (self has been... erm... experimenting with wif... CAR! Self has been experimenting with CAR all day yesterday, day before and day before that and am suitably grubby - will explain grubbiness shortly. Is v. unusual, but has v.... interesting side effect). Arse - hot property!

Have done more father son bonding, before he headed to London for a couple of days to seek out old friends and find some v. high class New Year parties for family to gate-crash, without invites (We are so v. evil!).

Did not think it was possible to actually like father, but twenty-five years in the wilds seem to have tamed him a little.

Either that, or self really was a greedy, grasping little brat when self was young.

Hmm.

Prefer to stick with concept of father being tamed (Even though it seems impossible for any-one/-thing/-continent to tame madcap homicidal father, who, on sidenote, was v. not pleased about missing out on whole long campaign of Dark Master. 

Am actually rather glad that father was absent - otherwise, self would never had reached high and v. evil standing that self did. After all, Dark Master is v. partial to Scottish accent. Manky git is accentist! 

Self is not at all jealous of father's v. sexy accent. 

Not that father has sexy accent! 

Not at all! 

Self was being hypothetical about accents and that Scottish accent of father (although, why head of our family originally from France has Scottish accent self has yet to work out) may be construed as sexy by people who like sexy accents.

ANYWAY!!

On to grubbiness.

Have some v. unusual robes for practical work.

Actually, robes may be normal for average wizard to wear for working. Self normally does not partake in manual labour, so not recognising particular work robes is hardly v. surprising.

Today, though, thought that self ought to look the part while tinkering with car (which is now full sized, but has plastic interior. Grr. Must work on finding out how engine works, so self can fit one. Or steal one from other Porsche. Or steal other Porsche. So many options available), so self donned spiffy robes without sleeves and with fitted trousers called 'dun-gur-ease'.

While outfit looked utterly ridiculous, had effect of baring arms (which are v. toned after months of house-elf-hurling) and much of naked chest (which looks rather good too. Should be illegal for one person to look so good).

Was v. surprised when wife appeared in garage (which self added six months ago in anticipation of Porsche. Am sure garage should probably be on outside of house and not in attic, but believe it works equally well).

Was even more surprised when wife started ogling self like self was hotter than usual, which was v. odd, esp. since self's hair was all over self's face and self was looking a little flushed (Could see reflection in hood of car - another v. good reason for having v. spiffy silver colour).

Asked wife what she wanted.

Wife made garbled response about working man and sexy.

Next thing self knew, self was pinned on hood of car and was certainly not objecting as wife showed just why dun-gur-ease have word 'ease' in them. Am sure wife has never got trousers off self so quickly before.

Apparently, wife has fetish for something called 'grease monkey'.

Am sure that this is reference to human and not some...ape. 

Would be v. displeased to be compared to monkey, but have found that wife is happy to pop into workshop every day, just to dispatch dun-gur-ease and show self why hood of Porsche is...rather spiffy.

Wife apparently likes robes and seeing self attempting to make car work.

Wife also offered bottles of oil and grease, claiming that such things were essential when working on a car. Have decided that, in order to maintain wife's hourly visits to garage, will humour her.

When wife entered garage this afternoon and found self in work-garb, with wizard-style wrench in hand and grease on hands and forearms, wife uttered feeble squeak of delight, then fainted.

Was very good for self's ego.

Wife is v. easily pleased, but will not let that detract from giddy glow.

Unfortunately, Porsche's shiny bonnet now has rather noticeable dent right in the middle where wife - once she had regained consciousness and got wide and silly grin off her face - pounced self.

Will have to call in actual mechanic to sort that.

Self repaired it, but dent was immediately replaced when wife - stunned by self's prowess at motor repair - slide-tackled self onto hood again and threw dun-gur-ease across room within seconds.

Will have to have bonnet reinforced.

Am actually now v. pleased that wife actually did bugger up with car.

Fake-Porsche has provided much more interesting results than average Porsche would and can always start dropping subtle hints for real Porsche for self's fortieth birthday in a few months.

After all, is big birthday, involving a zero on end of number, therefore, self deserves something special.

Not that self will be old.

Self will be...mature, like fine wine.

Fine wine that wants a real Porsche.

Will have to look into it.

Now, though, wife has just snuck back into garage. Have sneaking suspicion she wants to see what progress self has made and self lying on stomach on bonnet of car, writing Chronicles is hardly action of 'grease monkey'.

Will write later.

~*~

****

December 31st 1992

__

Hair beyond perfect (and wife's looks equally stunning). Evil-glare turned to slightly arrogant and v. proud-of-self-and-arse look (Am going out in public in short time and would not desire to be arrested for evil-glaring various ministry-types). Robes look top of the range, esp. on self's damn fine arse. Arse - as mentioned - is damn fine.

Self, wife and father are about to go out for a night on the tiles.

New year is hardly significant big deal, but since wife and self do so love being seen in public, looking all glamorous and whatnot, it is best time of year to don best robes and go out together.

On most other occasions, self and wife go to different dos separately, so that we will not stun the populace with stunning good looks, as it may cause damage with so many people staring at us and not looking where they are going.

Heard that a broomstick collision was fault of wife and self last year (although later found out that wife's skirt was stuck in waistband of her scant knickers and she was flashing her bum at world. Is possible that is what distracted two male broom riders and will not look into symbolism of woman's arse making two men snap their flying phallic symbols by crashing into on another's arms...).

So, self and wife seldom go out in public together.

However, when we do, we go out in style.

Wife looking absolutely edible.

Wife had to change dress after she entered self's rooms and looked so bloody good that self had to immediately show wife what wifely duties are and, unfortunately, the dress suffered.

So, wife is wearing the not-quite-as-spectacular dress.

Thankfully.

If wife was wearing spectacular dress, self would have to kill anyone who dared to look at her. Self might just do that anyway. For fun.

Father, though, may succeed in reducing self and wife's credibility for looking v. spiffy as father is insisting on wearing skirt.

Oh, pardon, father.

Kilt.

Father intends to wear kilt.

Have been informed that kilts are sign of dominant manliness in Scotland. Suppose that if man was brave enough to wear kilt in Highlands and not get living poo kicked out of him for being soft nancy girl, he would have to be v. formidable.

However, am still unsure of necessity of sporran.

Sporran is v. oddly shaped little bag which hands right in front of crotch area.

Father said something about keeping oats in it...

Am beginning to have severe doubts about father's sanity (or what was left of it after years in Asia. Not that he had much to begin with, but self won't nitpick on it, as father did manage to find spiffy party to crash. Somewhere called Balmoral...).

Anyway, best finish now.

Wife has polished cane head for self and father and wife are ready to go.

Will write more in the new year.


	10. Everso Tipsy

The Chronicles of Lucius

Everso Tipsy

Notes: Due to popular demand in the reviews, I'm going to have to do the morning-after-the-night-before-New-Year scenario. Plus, the illusive flatmate who triggered this moment of madness informed me that she found merry!Lucius amusing. 

Hmm. 

Tabletop-dancing!Lucius has yet to be brought up in LUST...ladies?

_________________________

****

January 1st 1993 - New Year

__

Hair lank. Evil glare turned off due to sore head. Robes replaced with fuzzy, cosy dressing gown and slippers (Am far too sleepy and dizzy to leave bedroom. Would sit by window, but light is too bright. Head really v. sore. Think self might have enjoyed party too much). Arse... well, still attached (Definitely good thing - self without arse would be unthinkable).

Is New Year, therefore, must make resolutions that will make self a better person (not that self needs to, but it will humour wife and wife appreciates being humoured. Wife is v. strange, lovely thing that she is):

****

I WILL:

Appreciate wife more

Show son some kind of affection (Uncertain what kind yet. Is glaring affectionate?)

Kill father for being an embarrassment to self and wizarding-kind

Develop less-subtle hint-dropping technique, so wife will be sure to get real Porsche for birthday

Avoid the house elves (esp. one with big nose)

Polish cane daily (Must maintain optimum evil gleam. Evil is never dull and smudged with fingerprints)

Find strength to resist buying new wardrobe whenever in Knockturn Alley

Find way to identify spiked and non-spiked drinks

Mock Gandalf-wannabe for having crap hair

Be sexy man-beast that wife finds irresistible every day (As if that would be a challenge for self...)

Get Porsche for birthday

****

I WILL NOT:

Befriend house elves

Invite muggles for dinner (Unless they are main course)

Be caught dead in public with father ever again

Admit my age to anyone outside family (Not that it makes difference - self is like v. fine wine, honestly)

Chum up to Gandalf-wannabe

Ruin Dark-Lord-Diary-plan by telling son

Curse son's mouth shut to stop him blabbing about everything around school, because he is stupid little nit

Make up anymore resolutions as self never remembers to keep them.

Party last night was fun.

Head v. v. sore.

Have discovered where son inherited drink-spiking tendencies. 

Am unsure how father could spike whisky with...well, more whisky, but father managed to produce drink that knocked drinker (ie. self) off feet.

Father then called self sissy-girl for not being able to hold booze.

Head hurts.

Will kill father soon.

Groo...

Unfortunately, have vague recollection of pre-keel-over time.

Most people were v. shocked to see father. 

Or possibly hairy knees of father. 

Must admit that self was sure father had pair of matching baby acromantulas sticking to his legs. Self screaming like girl was entirely justified at sight of them peeking out from beneath kilt.

Actually, thinking on it, shock may have been instilled by father wearing a patterned skirt with knee-high socks and v. tacky badge (silver with plastic-looking purple gem in flower pattern - father not as tough as he looks, if he likes flowers. Am so much cooler than father! Self has snake badges! Snakes are well spiffy! Ha! Father wears little girly flowers and self wears snakes! Who's your Dark Wizard? Say it! Say it!) at collar of shirt.

Father's distinct lack of fashion sense is enough to scare anyone. 

Father greeted all old friends (However, look of terror on faces of many suggested that 'friend' is not term they recall father in. 'Insane raving psycho' was whispered by several. Am not sure what they might be implying about father) in fashion of long-lost-Dark-Wizard friend. 

Am sure that Hector Benoit will not miss his left leg.

However, am rather convinced that Joshua Rosencrantz might be slightly miffed about sudden absence of his head.

Father always did have such a way with people.

Was sure several Aurors were present at 'do' last night, which might have proved a slight problem for dark-magic-wielding father, but heard they were spotted furtively trying to leave building without being spotted by 'the madman in the skirt'.

Am undecided as to whether they were referring to father or not.

For the most part, though, people at party were suitable company.

V. rare to find such company in present times, due to abundance of muggle-lovers, avoiders of fashion and... oh, what was that other one? Always forget one... muggle-lovers... avoiders of fashion...oh! 

Mudbloods!

Yes, three sins of wizarding world.

Personally, do not mind mudbloods so much, as long as they don't come anywhere near self and contaminate the air with their breath. In self's opinion, they should all be shipped off to an Island somewhere and left there.

Would provide v. entertaining if wizarding world could watch as mudbloods are forced to resort to struggling for survival, lose all commodities and have to live with complete strangers in the middle of nowhere. 

Doubt muggles would be able to come up with such a nightmarish form of torture!

Anyway, back to party.

Self was fortunate to have wife to stop self looking embarrassing.

Wife achieved that by climbing up and dancing on table with self, so self didn't look quite as...well, one wouldn't say silly about self's dancing, because - according to one of wife's witch friends - self knows how to 'shake his tight little bootay!'.

Of course, self would never brag about this. Self is v. modest and retiring an looks v. good when self acts graciously when flattered. 

However, must interpret what 'bootay' is. Am sure it is meant as compliment.

So, wife and self table-danced.

Am not sure if it is good thing that people were hurling money up to us and wolf-whistling. Am sure that the cried of 'Come on, Malfoy, show us yer legs!' and 'Get yer tits out!' were sheerly in spirit of good humour.

Mind you, wife flashed leg and am certain that she received fifty galleons for it.

Wife does have v. attractive legs, though, so hardly surprising.

Unfortunately, father ruined any chances of making a profit from night by joining us on table and lifting his kilt up. 

On sidenote: father is _true_ Scotsman. V. embarrassing.

Trust father to lower tone of evening.

The whole room went silent and several people dropped their glasses. Father just smirked in v. evil fashion, lowered kilt, climbed off table and said to self that self was acting like a showgirl and should have some Malfoy pride.

This coming from the old fart who just flashed his todgers at room full of friends.

On plus side, though, father showed off the... er... well-sized... um... pride of Malfoy family. Self can hardly complain about father making several women stare in awe, as self has same... um... wand length as father. 

Is one thing I am grateful to father for.

Fortunately, only other feature self received from father was cynical-eyebrow.

Have named cynical-eyebrow Bob.

Was blessed to look like mother, grandparents and everyone but father, as father can look v. evil if he wants with black hair and nearly black eyes. V. creepy. Self prefers to deceive people into thinking self is pretty (Is v. true) and harmless (Is v. not true).

Just had frightening thought...

Father had black hair as youth and nearly black eyes.

Greasy Potions Professor at son's school also has lanky black hair (Must recommend a conditioner, as self feels compelled to shudder every time self sees him) and v. dark eyes. Could it be possible that self has a brother...?

Would explain natural enmity that self feels for stupid House Master and insane instinct self has to pull his hair (After it has been washed with v. expensive shampoo and self must wear rubber gloves to prevent contamination) and steal his toys.

Ick.

No.

That would be wrong and foul in so many ways.

Am happy being only child. Will not contemplate vileness of having to deal with potential siblings. 

At least not unless my way of relating to illusive brother is to show him how well self can perform Avada Kedavra - am v. good at it, although have yet to show any family member the way self can bump off muggles. 

Oddly, for some reason, they are always busy when self offers to show them.

Can't be that they still remember unfortunate incident where self accidentally sent Avada on Auror-type and managed to kill three Death Eaters, who were standing behind self, by accident.

Was so v. much not my fault!

Bloody wand was being an arse!

Dark Master was not best pleased. 

However, to return to subject of party: after table-dance fiasco (and humiliation) was convinced by father to try his special brand of booze and that floored self. 

Cannot really remember anything further about party, apart from being able to see fascinating texture of carpet in very close detail. Also remembering seeing feet, but carpet seemed so very interesting.

Believe wife and father got self home.

Dearly wish my memory was better.

Oh! Thank you Merlin!

Wife has just entered with large vat of pain-killing potion and very few clothes!

Have never been more glad to see wife!

Missing clothes an added bonus to potion.

Have vague idea what wife has in mind, therefore, will write more at later time.

~*~

****

January 3rd 1993

__

Hair freshly washed and dripping and tangled (Wife snuck up on self in shower this morning and made things v....interesting). Evil glare on pacific mode. Robes replaced with comfy dressing gown again (Am still on New Year break. Am enjoying it). Arse in fine shape (Good start to year).

Have just received belated New year salutation from son.

Son has requested new friends as current hired help (Brain-dead sons of self's brain-dead bodyguard types) seem to be behaving oddly. Perhaps single brain cell has run out of power.

Son mentioned something about them on Christmas day.

They said they were asleep in cupboard (why they were sleeping in cupboard together, self has no clue and does not want one), while son insists they were in common room, talking to him. Tend to believe son more, as friends are v. thick and probably identified common room as v. large cupboard.

Will contact fathers of boys and ask them to check the dosage on sons medication.

Can't have son getting lonely and depressed at school, esp. when self needs him there to keep self updated on things that are happening with diary, rumours of heir and other stuff like that.

Fortunately, self still has father here, so son will avoid coming home for as long as possible, to avoid his mad grandfather.

Is v. useful keeping father around, although have spoken to him and he intends to go back to Asia and South America again in some time, because he misses being able to hunt packs of muggles in the forests, while naked.

And didn't need that image.

Do wonder, though, where he keeps his wand in such circumstances.

Have come to the conclusion that father is v odd.

Also, on amusing note, father received official caution from the Ministry of Magic due to mysterious disappearance of head of Ministry worker at New Year Party.

Father v. good at acting innocent.

Father claimed that he is out of touch with magic and v. unsure about what happened to 'that poor wee bloke's head', while self witnessed whole thing and know that father knew exactly what he was doing. 

Rosencrantz was bloody idiot and told father that father's kilt made his legs look fat.

Stupid, stupid fool.

Everyone knows that you do not insult a Malfoy's fashion sense.

It might even be in wizarding law.

We are known for not being v. good at taking criticism (Self is exception to rule, as self always looks stunning) and for stupid ministry plonker to approach long-lost Malfoy Senior to insult his skirt...

Even self wouldn't be that stupid.

Self might think it, but would never dream of saying it.

Father was not best pleased with Ministry of Magic letter, saying he would be in bigger trouble if he did not reverse spell and apologise to Rosencrantz.

Ministry of Magic have just received the most obscene howler in wizarding History.

Am not sure where father learned all those words, but self will have to have him write them all down, so self can use them at appropriate time. 

As the three hour rant (And Ministry could not stop it until it was finished! Hehe! Can imagine look on Fudge's face! Priceless!) was eighty percent cursing, one would think he would repeat himself, but father only ever used every expletive once. 

Self is becoming increasingly impressed by father.

Hope he doesn't leave too soon. Am beginning to like having him around.

Will write more later. Have muggle-hunt planned in back gardens.


	11. Behind The Times

The Chronicles of Lucius

Behind The Times

Notes: Finally found my copy of CoS and managed to tidy up some ideas that I had for this chapter. Apologies for the delay in writing but... um... what am I apologising for? I've posted a chapter of one fic or another to FA almost every other day for the last three weeks. *le sigh* Methinks I write too much. 

_________________________

****

January 12th 1993

__

Hair brushed and shiny. Evil glare turned off for tearful departure of father (Am actually strangely sad to see old man go. Will be strangely quiet around house with no muggle toys of father screaming in torture chambers father added. Suppose self could use said chambers... hmmm). Robes suitably formal for father's leaving do (Although have banned booze, as self recalls... actually, self doesn't have a bloody clue what self did last time booze was involved. Apart from falling over. Do remember falling over. Bump on head still testifies to it. As does strange fixation with carpets. Hmm. Must see someone about that). Arse nice and firm.

As mentioned above, father is leaving, to return to wild lands of Asia, where he is free to kill many muggles without anyone blinking an eye. Trust father to find his niche in a village on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, where people wear sheets and live in temples.

Father has also decided that self looks better in house than he does, so he has decided to give self house.

Was v. touched and surprised by gesture.

In fact, self was so emotionally effected, self got moist around eyes.

Of course, then father (still the ever-malicious old bastard) turned round, pointed at self and laughed, saying that self was nancy-boy for getting teary-eyed over father's gesture of affection.

Although, don't believe that father called it affection.

Something about experiment about seeing how sappy self was. 

Do believe (and hope a little) that he meant it in generous, fatherly and emotionally-connected fashion, although cheerful mention of placing vengeful curse on the manor in return for memory charm of twenty-five years ago was rather... unnerving, thinking on it.

Hope father was joking.

Would rather not have a cursed house.

Aunt Elsbeth (Sister of father - equally batty, but with v. v. v. large fortune (Can not overemphasize how V. big said fortune is. Not that size really mat... oh, who am I trying to kid! Of course size matters! Fortune in bloody enormous!) which self will one day receive due to Aunt's inability to keep a husband long enough to produce a child. Something about v. rich husbands being v. dead on day after wedding (And, of course, leaving vast wads of money to poor, mourning Aunt) caused problems in production of Heirs apparently, so self is sole benefactor of nutty old lady) has cursed (but v. pretty!) castle in Glencoe and said that blood running down walls at dinner parties was v. disturbing for guests. 

Can imagine it would put one off one's soup.

Also played havoc with upholstery.

Hmm. 

Must suggest that Aunt Elsbeth invites vampires to dinner at manor - vampires could take care of bloody-walls problem. Being blood-sucking fiends means they would not be squeamish or run screaming about curses and have v. filling meal in the bargain.

Mind you, on downside of having undead blood-suckers in house, said vampires might also eat Aunt Elsbeth.

Hmm.

Well, that _would _be a great loss to the world.

One less person to send Christmas card to.

As well as the tiny issue of inheritance, although self would be loathe to bring it up.

Self really isn't at all interested in acquiring Aunt's vast accumulation of millions of galleons. Not at all. 

Hmm... I wonder... 

If self subtly hints to Aunt Elsbeth about possibility of utilising vampires to get rid of bloody wall (which is playing havoc with upholstery and social status, although have heard rumours about popularity with tourists. Tourists. Would invite them into castle, then toast them like marshmallows, filthy little camera-snapping fools! Unless they wanted photographs of self, in which case an exception may be made, before toasting occurred), then Aunt gets vampires in, then vampires turn on her and eat her, would it be construed as accidental? 

Self would be innocent of deaths of family-types, of course, because self did not specifically do anything but suggest way for Aunt to improve house.

Note to self: Make sure Aunt Elsbeth hasn't changed her will recently, then inform her of vampire-idea (Although **remember** NOT to mention that self intends for naughty vampires to eat her. Must remember that! Would bollix plan nicely).

Although, vampires might like Aunt Elsbeth and make her into one of them.

Aunt Elsbeth is certainly psychotic enough as human - imagine she would be... just a little more frightening as vampire. After all, am sure that vampire equivalent of Aunt's agonising cheek-pinch would be much worse.

Hmm.

Will have to find utterly ruthless vampires who kill immediately, although must admit that interviewing process would be rather perilous.

Alternatively, could just practise Avada on Aunt.

Has been a while since self tried spell and Aunt is always saying that she would be willing to help self with magic at any time.

Will ask father if he has any particular attachments to his sister, before proceeding, though. Departure curse is bad enough - would not wish to call down wrath of father on self for doing in father's siblings without permission.

Will check back later, once self is sure, after father's leaving do.

~*~

****

January 13th 1993

__

Hair short - currently floppy and nancy-boy-ishly shaped to fall just around eyes in v. cutesy fashion (If father comes near self again, am going to kill him vilely and painfully!). Evil glare directed at father (ie. general direction of Asia. Am sure he will sense it as self really is v. annoyed). Robes... replaced with new 'look' (father is evil git). Arse somewhat compacted after daring adventure into new ensemble (Am killing father next time he shows face. Immediately. He might have muggles as blackmail, but am set in intentions and will kill him).

Stupidly allowed father near beverage counter last night.

Also, stupidly trusted father's promise that he would behave for a 'nice little do'.

Forgot that father is evil, lying malicious bastard.

Woke up somewhere unfamiliar, great quantity of hair missing, clad in skin-tight piece of clothing apparently called T-shirt with 'I'm too sexy for this shirt' written on chest (Agree with sentiments, but not with said piece of clothing) and v. uncomfortable trousers on nether regions.

Leather.

Self was fine when lying down and trying to get one's bearings.

Unfortunately, the moment self sat up, self immediately regretted it. 

Actually, self regretted it when self came around after passing out from near-castration by v. tight leather trousers. Am sure that seam of trousers did some long term damage (Am able to hit a high 'C'. V. worrying).

Was just beginning to understand that self had been set up by malicious-git-father and thinking about how self would return home when the world stopped spinning (Must find out how father is so efficient at spiking drinks. Must learn to avoid spiked drinks. Must resist urge to fall over again and successfully finish Chronicle entry) when a voice spoke from floor.

"So you're awake, Sleeping Beauty," he said. "You passed out before we could do anything last night..."

Was still utterly disorientated and sure that voice was delusion.

Until a large hand patted self's thigh.

Apparently, self had been given the bed of said speaker. Said speaker, who was v. large, also clad in much leather, with v. frightening handlebar moustache extending down around mouth and v. prominent earring.

Said speaker now expected self to... pay for the accommodation and touched part of trousers that no man should squeeze when self is wearing leather. Or at all! No man should squeeze self there! Never! Never ever!

Self squealed like girl (and will blame trousers entirely for said effect).

Once again, self was hugely grateful for ability to apparate.

While self is first to admit the fleeing is a sign of cowardice and worthy of cruciatus by Dark Master, am absolutely positive that Dark Master - in same situation - would have fled, squealing like a girl much like self did.

Handlebar moustache. 

Enough said.

Also, was forced to have wife apply some kind of lubricant to self, in order to aid self in removal of magically-attached leather trousers, when self managed to get home and fall over in pain.

Have strangely sneaking suspicion that wife took her time over it, as am v. sure that wife's hand did not need to linger on arse for a good thirty minutes (Not that that was bad thing, of course, but prefer it in normal circumstances, when self is not confined within skin of dead animal, restricting certain... reactions).

Have decided that leather trousers are true element of evil and if any member of family (Bar wife and her v. sexy arse - am sure that would look stunning) even thinks about wearing leather trousers, self will hex them into next Millennia and exile them from family.

Yes, am rather bitter towards trousers, esp. since it was self's appearance in said trousers (And T-shirt, but did not have to humiliate self with bottle of baby oil to remove T-shirt. Wife's teeth did good enough job) that apparently attracted big, scary moustached wizard type, whom self is tempted to refer to as a 'Village person', although self is not entirely sure why.

Bloody trousers.

Am absolutely going to kill father next time self sees him. As if going out in public in a skirt wasn't reason enough.

Hmpf. Will write later. Must go and plot messy deaths of family types presently.

****

~*~

****

January 15th 1993

__

Hair in tidy ponytail (Am overjoyed to have hair back after father's spell wore off. Ha! Self's spell lasts twenty-five years, father's twenty-five hours - now, does it need to be said who is better wizard? Not that I would point this out to father's face, if he showed up, as am rather partial to having hair at present length and not suffering indignity and humiliation of leather trousers again...). Evil glare simmering in direction of Hell (although, am wondering what point is, as son will probably not be aware of it. Turned attention from father as relief at return of hair is so great). Robes decent. Arse sat upon.

In wake of father's absence (And taking one day of deep, brooding and v. vengeful contemplation (Why wife called it petulant sulking, self can not say)), self has recalled plot that was in progress.

And son's involvement.

Am wondering how it is possible that self sired such a bloody nitwit.

Self repeatedly told son that self wanted to know absolutely everything that happened at school this year in great detail and did son write and inform self of current situation at school?

Did son hell!

Have not heard from stupid little brat since son complained about needing new help.

Am beginning to wonder if son feels that self should have some responsibility for his needs: father I need new a new broom, father I need a flying car, father buy me some new friends...

Father, I need you to beat me around the head with your cane.

Grr.

Ungrateful little brat.

Don't see why self should pay for all son's things, just because am his father. What do I look like? A bank? (If so, self must be best-looking bank in the world, because hair is stunning today).

Will write to son immediately and demand explanation.

And self was having such a good start to year.

Apart from humiliating New Year Party. 

And incident with leather trousers.

Ahem. Will write later.

~*~

****

January 16th 1993

__

Hair brushed. Evil glare nullified by v. sheepish look (v. evil-looking sheepish look, but still). Robes fidgeted with. Arse twitchy.

Am feeling rather silly.

Forgot that son's owl always delivers son's letters to study and have not been in study since New Year, until today (Have been distracted by father, wife, Porsche, Christmas and homicidal thoughts).

Found whole pile of letters lying on desk and owl droppings on chair. Believe that owl does not have a v. high opinion of self.

Recall that son's New Year salutation came with rather ugly, common owl, probably one of school variety which is just embarrassing for both self and son, instead of with son's personal owl.

Anyway, to sum up contents of various notes from son, son's obsession with green-eyed boy shows no signs of relenting yet: he did this, he did that, he got away with this, he tried that.

Is v. frustrating to wade through twenty pages of letter for one piece of non-Potter information, but it is there, which is definite plus.

Diary plot _is_ still working.

Another mudblood has been petrified, just before Christmas. 

Really must inform Dark Lord about recharging snake-pet so eyes actually do kill, like they're meant to. If self was Dark Lord, would demand receipt from ancestor for non-functioning toy! 

One petrification is tolerable. Two is disappointing. Three is just bloody ridiculous!

However, on plus side, have received letter from board of Governors, inferring that there is growing concern for well-being of children in Hell and that a meeting should be held soon, to discuss things.

Will be able to begin plot to have Gandalf-wannabe turned out on his ear.

Although, while Governors may actually be concerned for children, can't help having sneaking suspicion that they have simply contacted self, demanding self's presence at future meetings due to cane-withdrawal. 

Would not blame them - cane is truly an essential accessory.

Plus, v. sexy as well.

However, now, must go and check appointment book to see if self can... make time to socialise with other Governors.

After all, would hate to disappoint them with absence of self's dashing good looks.

And cane, of course.

Will write later.


	12. For The Sentiment

The Chronicles Of Lucius

For The Sentiment

Notes: Wahey! New chapter! Apologies for taking a while with this one, but (and here comes the excuse. Prepared to be awed and stunned by the sheer thought that goes into it!) I was working on my dissertation (Haven't we heard this before, I hear you cry) **AND** I needed to sort through the dates properly, so I know exactly when what incidents happen and the like. Now, muahahah! I'm a sad geek and I know all the dates and am hugely amused that something happens on my birthday! Bwaha! Yes, I am associated with DorksRUs, thank you. 

Also, in case any of you are interested, I set up a mailing list at - - to give advanced notice when fics are on the way or being updated. And, of course, so people can poke me and ask nosy questions that I try and answer without looking too silly :)

Anyway, onto the chapter!

_____________________________

****

February 12th 1993

__

Hair in rather spiffy ponytail (Make it look v. dashing. Mind you, would make a pink poodle look dashing, if self donned it on self's head!). Evil glare on moderate power (Am in progress of plotting carefully and would not wish to run out of evil glare power before it is necessary. Would be v. embarrassing to lose evil glare power mid-glare!). Robes in hands of house elves for... er... cleaning (Believe stains to be wife's fault. Really). Arse petted to within an inch of its life (Wife still has arse fixation. Not that self minds).

Have been plotting profusely since last Chronicle entry.

Reason for lack of updates: Chronicles were strategically hidden in middle of last month, to prevent wife from peeking at it when self was at meeting with Fudge (who was whimpering by end, because self had taken cane and had cane in lap. Yes, was low blow, but was fun to see Fudge's brain turn to mushy paste. Go me! Am so utterly evil!) and self hid Chronicles so well that they accidentally vanished.

Self entirely forgot that self had hidden them under second pillow instead of under top pillow. Was so cunning that even wife did not suspect. Mind you, nor did self suspect, but that is beside point.

And re-reading what self has just written... does self really sound that blond?

No matter. Have Chronicles back now and have been plotting in v. v. wicked and cunning ways, in order to have Gandalf-wannabe chucked out of old school because of diary-of-dark-master-plot, even though it isn't working as intended.

So far, since plot began:

Petrifications - four (including ghost - was tempted to make jokes that they saw slimy House Master of son and froze from shock at horror of evil and v. bad hair, but was forced to resist as smug poking of ally does not befit v. evil fiend. At least, not when there is nobody to hear it. Am so funny, yet have no bloody audience!)

Deaths - nil (Am hugely disappointed by this. Was hoping to see numerous blasted muggleborns dropping like flies. Insect kind! Not trouser kind! Ones with wings! When you kill them!)

Ahem.

Back to plot.

Have worked out that petrifications must be being kept under wraps, as they have yet to be reported to Daily Prophet (Am so smart! Bet no one else has realised they are hushing it up!).

However, have also come to conclusion that, if more pupils get frozen (rather like house elves when you throw them into pond in winter - is v. amusing, esp. if you decorate them while frozen and wife comes home from KA meeting to find house elf defrosting in her best dress. Never knew wife could kick house elf so hard! Must remember not to annoy wife personally. She was not best pleased about it and house elf could not blame self due to secrecy thing! Haha! Am so v. naughty!), then creepy old man with big beard would have to admit something is up.

Also, since he has kept it quiet for so long and has been unable to stop things, am sure that self could convince the other Governors that old man and his split ends have rather lost their touch in Hell.

Actually, am more prone to think that self's cane might convince Governors to fill in necessary form to be sure that old fool is booted out of school or self could always resort to desperate measures and get signatures by v. cunningly asking for autographs of Board members.

Trick does work!

Ministry members have actually fallen for trick before.

Self can clearly recall the day: self's trial for being DE.

Jury looked like it was about to condemn self to go to jail (Ick! Would hate to be parted from nice house and spa and fake Porsche in attic and cane! Would be like a nightmare), so - self thinking quickly - withdrew piece of parchment from pocket and asked for all Jurors' autographs as a memory of special day in court.

All jurors (shallow, silly muggle-lovers, all of them) signed parchment and preened.

Of course, then self handed paper to Judge, who also signed it.

Then self, suggested that Judge actually read parchment, which said on top "All of the undersigned agree that Lucius Malfoy is innocent and has a spectacular arse" and every juror plus judge had signed, so self got out of jail.

Am so v. sneaky!

Anyway, self must make handing over of form to bushy twit (It will happen, if self has to go to Hell and petrify brats with cane! Yes, that defeats purpose, but am determined to get froofy ponce out!) look v. impressive and v. arrogant (Am not sure how to play arrogant. Am v. humble after all. Will be v. challenging to pretend to like the little people. Am not sure how to act around them and their simple brains) so, must wait until someone important is present to watch.

Would be amusing if Fudge was present, with his fixation on self. Can imagine him trying to decide whether to be twitchy over presence of self and cane or annoyed that self has bollixed up plans to move more idiots into high positions in school by getting rid of poofy-dressing-gown-wearing-head-master.

Have specifically forgotten him while sending out invitations to Governors meeting at self's humble abode. Do hope that he takes it personally.

Have arranged meeting for some time next week. Informed wife, who immediately decided what was for dinner, who would sit where and how many times self was allowed to fondle head of cane in front of them.

Do love it when wife takes charge.

Will write later. Must plot more.

***

****

February 14th 1993

__

Hair mussed. Evil glare in direction of Fudge. Robes on floor. Arse sated.

Hate Fudge.

Seriously, if self did not want to humiliate and turn Fudge's brain to mush, while leaving him as utterly brain-dead guppy in top at Ministry of Magic (Is easier than dealing with semi-intelligent person who actually asks questions from time to time. Hate it when MoM want to know why self has been muggle-hunting at country retreat. Have told them numerous times - have no choice, because duck season is over and self would deplore to hunt poor, helpless little foxes and rabbits), self would kill him slowly and painfully.

Wife decided to seduce self this morning. Mentioned something about Valentine's day and brought chocolate.

Fudge (Pompous, overblown, interfering, snooty, brain-dead hopeless worst-case example of inbreeding) decided it was appropriate time to pay visit and called up by Floo without warning at v. inopportune time.

Yes, floo connection in is living room, but self didn't think anyone would call while self and wife are having some fun in front of fire, on chilly day.

Bloody Fudge!

Ruined mood, squashed wife's scented candles and landed squarely on top of wife and self with worst landing self has ever seen out of a fireplace (Honestly, what kind of person comes through floo network in swan-dive?), which was v. annoying as it threw wife's back out and now, wife is laid up in bed and will be unable to finish where we started for at least a week.

So, now self is in room, plotting Fudge's horrific and grisly death when Dark Master returns. Am positive that Dark Master will sympathise wholeheartedly and let self do whatever self likes to mindless cretin.

Am v. v. v. maliciously pleased that self did not bother to invite moronic Neanderthal of a Fudge-fool to 'do' next week and sincerely hope he sits at home and cries like a baby because no one wants him.

Would pay v. good sum of money for photographic evidence to point at and mock.

Mmm.

Am so v. evil.

Will write later. Must go and see to wife and make sure she is comfortable.

***

****

February 15th 1993

__

Hair in ringlets (Donut even ask. Wife. Spell. Wrong. All am saying). Evil glare still charging (Am storing it all for right moment. At present am doing things by furtive and sneaky ways, instead of being openly evil. Is so much fun and v. confusing for people with tiny brains!). Robes functional (Am still waiting for wife's back trouble to clear up). Arse sat upon on windowsill (Am looking v. much like brooding Gothic hero, framed by window. Is v. poetic image. Think self is getting sappy in not-so-v.-old age. Will move away from window at once. Does not do well to look like brooding poet type. Would not wish people to get wrong idea about self).

Received letter from son regarding Valentine festival.

Apparently son spent day being stalked throughout Hell by ugly, tiny men with wings and harps in loincloths, each bearing tidings of love. Son said he thought it v. amusing and wished it would happen more often.

Will try desperately not to read into son's appreciation of short men with wings.

Am having nightmarish flashback to evil Snow White.

Is son truly that lacking in taste?

Think it would be greatly preferable if son had crush on green-eyed Pot-boy (Yes, self knows that he is Dark Master's nemesis, but at least he is better looking than short, ugly men with wings).

Considering it, maybe foolhardy son has been bitten by basilisk without realising (although how son would miss a sixty-foot snake with bloody enormous fangs, am not entirely sure) and is hallucinating prior to impending demise.

Perhaps son being killed by basilisk would be better than son appreciating advances of numerous tiny men.

Oh.

Wife just read son's letter.

Apparently self didn't read the second page, written on back of first, so self didn't receive all information. V. embarrassing. Apparently, tiny men were delivering all Valentine cards and messages from son's fleet of female admirers, so son's pleasure at being stalked in entirely justified.

Hmpf.

Son is being far too arrogant about getting more cards than self. Getting cards is not indicator of how popular and lickable one is. Son has no dignity when it comes to popularity and immediately gets v. cocky about it.

Self does not have to depend on people liking him and self is definitely not as cocky about it as soon as.

Anyway, son isn't that special. Son doesn't have whole Board of Governors admiring his arse, so don't know what he's boasting about. Ha! Take that! Am so v. much more edible than son is.

Had best finish now. Wife needs self to peel grapes for her. Wife really gets v. nasty when she gets ignored in favour of Chronicles.

***

****

February 20th 1993

__

Hair in v. dashing and gentlemanly ponytail (Don't ask how it is gentlemanly! It just is, all right?). Evil glare put on hold (Donut want to scare other Governors). Robes sensational (Have to make a good impression). Arse nice and firm (Wife's buttock-tightening spell worked for big evening. Have to make a good show for wives of Governors as well. Am too kind and too damn hot!).

Governors coming to mansion for meal tonight.

Should be interesting meeting and have nice piece of parchment ready for all of the Board to sign, just so self has it all ready to take to school, in anticipation of next snake-spotting incident.

Not that self would have a suspicion of what is happening.

Of course, self has no idea!

Self?

Know something about nasty petrifications that have been happening to poor, sweet, harmless little mudb... er... muggleborns at school that self is on Board of Governors for and not tell someone in charge?

Self is truly shocked at such a suggestion!

Self only ever thinks kind thoughts about students.

Well, about purebloods at least.

All right, all right.

Rich purebloods.

First Governor has arrived! Will write about meeting later.

***

****

February 21st 1993

__

Everything same as earlier (Is now one o'clock in morning) - am a little scruffier than self was at start of evening (Governors have just left (with their wives fortunately. One of said wives tried to grab self's posterior when self was standing a bit too close to long-nailed hands. Took all self's self-control to restrain urge to Avada her and simply slap at knuckles with cane. Now recall why self hates having company from work - all work people are raving loonies!))

Despite some scratches and bruises to certain regions of anatomy due to rampant wife of Head of Board (Always is the quiet ones that surprise you. No one expects to be accosted by librarian from Diagon Alley, but it happens), meeting - on the whole - appeared to go well.

And got parchment signed! Go me!

Explained what was happening at school.

Board appeared more interested in flirting with wife (Bloody limelight thief! Was self's meeting! Self did the work... all right, house elves did the work, but self looked good, dammit!), who might have been wearing a v. small dress.

Am not sure as self would require a magnifying glass to see it.

Anyway, explained again, got a few nods of agreement, but none of board would say yes to being rid of old fool.

Had to resort to desperate measures to ensure that correct form got signed when even favourite old "Can I have your autograph on this legally binding document?" trick did not work.

Told them self would leave board and take cane with me.

From then, every other Governor fought for quill in order to sign scroll and self's plan went a step further towards getting Gandalf-wannabe kicked out of hell.

Self can't wait to see the look on old fool's face when self hands him scroll and tells him that self has finally outdone him and that him being over a hundred years old doesn't mean he's smarter than self.

Just means he has a wrinklier arse.

Which self really didn't need to visualise.

Hope there is another petrification soon! Can't wait to use scroll!

Anyway, am in mood for celebrating and wife's back is finally better, so self will sign off for now. Will write more when more becomes known.


	13. Pleasure And Business

The Chronicles of Lucius

Pleasure and Business

Author's Notes: Apologies for the delay on this chapter - I can't blame the dissertation any more, although it did actually leave me so brain-drained that I couldn't fic for a week, which was nightmarish! Bear in mind that ficcing is what I do at _all_ times. I was left sprawled on my bed, staring at the ceiling, completely drained. Mind you, did get my re-reading of LoTR done and now, I can work on that epic series I have planned. Well, two epics now - one a HP/LoTR crossover and one a Boromir-AU fic :) Ah, the joy of having a split-personality muse :D

Anyway, to the fic!

_________________________________________

****

March 29th 1993

__

Hair loose about self's shoulders in oh so glamorous fashion because self is so damn lickable! Evil glare replaced with sexy smirk (to sate wife and various other woman around poolside). Robes replaced with... er... very little (Self is most intellectual-looking person by poolside, even when self is wearing little more than dark trunks - self looks v. gorgeous writing Chronicles with deep and pensive look upon self's noble brow and sunglasses upon nose (One of few things that were muggle created that self reluctantly approves of. Only if sunglasses are magic! Self's are! Are most definitely magical! Change colour to suit skin. V. fashionable. Self looks so hot, am amazed towel am lying on has not spontaneously combusted)). Arse - like steel, baby! (Note to self, never ever visit Bermuda when Salem Witch Institute Witches are present).

Have written very little of late, due to holiday. 

Decided to take a brief trip to Bermuda Triangle with wife (wife in bikini - Hubbah! Am convinced that it was definitely one of self's better ideas to choose v. v. hot and sunny holiday destination), as it is one place in world where Purebloods such as self can be guaranteed that no filthy little muggles will pee in pool.

Have heard that Bermuda Triangle is viewed as v. bad place in muggle-circles. Am laughing because muggles are so v. stupid and do not recognise a concealing charm when they see one. V. v. stupid individuals.

Even when strange hairy blanes vanish over 'triangle', bloody dense muggles place blame on alien kidnappings rather than wizards taking potshots at stupid flying objects that stumbled into private air space (As if aliens would be desperate enough to kidnap mudbloods and muggles! Stupid, stupid creatures! If they were to kidnap anyone, they would kidnap self and wife! Or at least some kind of pureblood types, although imagine self and wife would be high quality samples in both looks (in self's case) and brains (in wife's case).

Plus **wife in bikini**!

While self was initially rather agitated that wife's displaying so much flesh (in v. kinky-looking, skimpy, coiled-silver-snake bikini with strategically placed emerald snake-eyes (remind me strangely of Pot-boy's eyes for... oh. Crap. Forget self said that) on certain areas) would distract from self, having gorgeous wife draped on self's arm made self look like utter sex God (How v. v. v. true). 

Thought of self and wife looking drop-dead-if-you-look-at-us-no-really gorgeous did prove minor appeasement, so self was content to share limelight wit v. spiffy wife and rub fact that self's wife is more gorgeous than anyone else's. 

Am so v. v. evil!

As if self was not quite edible enough, self and wife make all people seethe with envy and naughty thoughts when we approach poolside in morning.

Arm-in-arm, self and wife have become v. adept at ignoring stares, because are both so used to being objects of lust that stares are as familiar as breathing (Although, hate to be the one to inform wife that self gets more stares than her. Am so damn good!).

Have met up with a few acquaintances while here and spent v. amusing afternoon the other say, turning hairy blanes into dust. Am sure our games are confounding v. stupid little muggles on rayder-things. 

Hehe.

Am so wicked.

If Ministry found out, am sure they would be v. angry, but since Bermuda Triangle is v. famous for vanishing things, self has good excuse - hairy blanes should not be able to access air space over Triangle, therefore self was preserving security of favourite holiday resort. 

Not having fun at all. 

No, really.

Oops. Self 'accidentally' killed muggles by poofing blanes?

Damn.

Am so v. v. upset.

Ah, reunions are v. fun. Is always fun to reminisce and spend time killing off random muggles with dear old friends, esp. with self and wife looking absolutely stunning. It will be v. difficult for things to get much better after this. Have forgotten how much fun Nott and McNair can be.

Anyway, will write more at later time - have just seen something called a 'fighter jat' and looks like it could be a challenging target! Must go and play!

~*~

****

April 1st 1993

__

Not important

Just received owl from son. Am returning home at once. Son has informed self that he is involved in deep, loving affair with green-eyed Pot-boy and wants self's blessing on them. Self's world is crumbling around self's ears. 

Wife just offered self something called prozac.

If son is serious, self will kill him and Pot-boy to spare self the shame!

****

Knew I should have read into it and dealt with it all earlier! **Knew** it!

~*~

****

April 1st 1993 (Afternoon)

__

Hair torn out it clumps (And in dire need of regrowing now, which is not v. fun). Evil glare directed at stupid, annoying, bloody wretched son (Was NOT bloody funny! Self has a delicate heart!)! Robes torn asunder in self's grieving and demented hour and a half before son's second bloody owl arrived (Why did son have to take three hours to send it? Would it have been so unkind to send owl right away? Why did it have to arrive just before noon?). Arse wishing desperately to be within hitting distance of bloody son!

Note to self: teach son what qualifies as a _genuinely_ amusing April Fool's joke.

Did not find son's attempt humorous in the least.

Additional note to self: Pummel the wretched little brat into a pulp with self's cane for giving self a bloody coronary!

And then, after trying to kill self and making self cut short holiday (All right, self was kicked out of resort for having rather minor temper tantrum over son's Owl. Did not think that blowing up the hotel would go down so badly), son demanded self's advice in choosing subject for next year in Hell.

Pah. Son expects good advice after his stunt? Not likely!

Here is basic summation of letter (All in brackets are side comments to mock son in cunning way and are not included in letter):

__

Dear son, 

Was amused by your v. funny joke (Was not, but do not want to give away that I am going to kill you in violent and bloody way as soon as you get home, you treacherous, wretched, grasping, greedy, annoying little brat!_). _

Wish self had thought of it (So self could humiliate you by having a howler announcing self's love of Pot-boy during breakfast in Great Hall of Hell to see how **you** would like it!_). _

Thank you for letter - mother and self have cut short holiday in order to aid you in decision making (And so self has better access to self's torture chamber in preparation for your home-coming from Hell!_)._

Self suggests that you take Care of Magical Creatures (In hopes that they will kill you, if you survive home-coming!_), Potions_ _(_In hopes that the fumes might kill you, filthy little brat with a terrible sense of humour! Self doesn't understand how son can have such a sick, evil sense of humour! Self's humour is all about the wit. Where did son get his crudity? Can't imagine!_), Arithmancy (_In hopes the teacher will kill you for being thick, stupid, stupid son!_) and the rest I will allow you to choose (_Because self can't think of anything else nearly fatal enough for self's liking, unless you can sign up for 'Leading walking parties into Forbidden Forest to be eaten by spiders', which would be good enough!_)._

Once again, wonderful joke, son (Which you will die for in bloody and hopefully v. humiliating ways! And wife laughed! Silly, bimbo wife laughed! Will glare at her after self finishes letter_)_

All my love _(_In a world where 'love' means 'I wish to see your bones melt, your blood boil, your hair fall out (HA! Am Evil Incarnate!), your evil glare reduced to blink, your scowl turned into a cute grin and want you to die in the fiery torment of a mudblood's kiss!'. Look forward to partaking in your cold-blooded murder_),_

Father.

Hmm.

Maybe self should add in all asides into actual letter as they are v. impressive and talk of love might scare son. Son is rather dense, after all, and may not realise that self is serious. After all, wife is still young enough to beget another heir.

On second thoughts, telling son self loves him and finds him funny will make him even more paranoid, little git. Will be v. amusing. Am so good at using boy's naive little mind against him. Am so evil!

Anyway, had best stop writing and finish letter, because wife wants to send son his presents from Bermuda. Don't see why little brat should get anything, since it's his fault the nice hotel got blown up.

Will try and dissuade her and then convince her to bear another Heir.

Will write more later.

Am NOT OVERREACTING!!!!

~*~

****

April 15th 1993

__

Hair back to normal. Evil glare in passive mode (Believe it to be after-effects of being doped up on Prozac, but am not sure). Robes v. odd (Have just had them removed after fortnight - wife seemed convinced that white ones with sleeves that wind around chest and buckle up back were v. fashionable. Mind you, did look v. nice compared to padded walls of self's nice bedroom in second holiday home). Arse - a little out of shape due to confinement to self's room.

Have been on hiatus.

Wife said something about self having a hysteria-induced nervous breakdown about two weeks ago, in wake of a 'rather amusing practical joke' played on self by son. Am not sure what she means. 

Mind you, self can't really remember two weeks ago and self's writing was so v. messy that self can't read it and find out what got self so worked up.

Anyway, am feeling much calmer and more focussed than before and have had time to contemplate self's cunning plan (Discarded idea of using a plot with a turnip, as well as pumpkin plot, plot involving giant tango dancing lemur and guppies, but given a choice of staring at padded walls and thinking of proper plot, self got bored with walls v. quickly and turned to plot).

Have an appointment with board tonight.

Wife didn't know about it and didn't think to cancel it for 'preservation of self's mental health', so self will doll self up, polish cane and go and get the plan back in action, in readiness for escape of Dark Master's pet phallic symbol (Yes, other choice of passing time was a mode of torture - a book by some strange man by name of Freud. Have had nightmares of self's mother ever since. Am v. traumatised).

Also, it appears Master's 'snake' has been kept under control for some time. 

Perhaps silly little girl with red hair and dodgy wardrobe turned into man-hating feminist and stopped listening to v. sweet, well-dressed, handsome, charming younger version of Dark Master (who was really v. pretty and has such good fashion sense compared... ahem. Will not read into Dark Master's love of clothing and style).

Still, have no doubts that more snake-attacks will occur v. soon. Hopefully as a lovely birthday present - would be nice to have a mudblood death as a special treat (Or a proper Porsche, although wife did offer to buy my padded room. Was so torn!).

So, when the diary-plot starts working again and snake-attacks happen again, be they petrifications or deaths (pleasepleasepleaseplease!), self will use tonight's little 'can I have your autograph?' routine to be properly prepared for things.

Will write of success of venture later.

~*~

**April 16th 1993**

__

Hair stunning. Evil glare replaced with diplomatic smile. Robes perfect. Arse nice.

Meeting was something of a success.

All right, didn't quite go as intended and autograph-test didn't work as planned, so self had to fall back on old, faithful techniques which have kept self's fellow members of the board on self's side.

Threatened to take cane away again.

All right, all right, yes, first self threatened to smite them all with curses that would make their children turn into polka-dot faced munchkins that would sing annoyingly happy songs in high, irritating and squeaky voices for all eternity and they would be cursed to listen to it all.

That didn't go down well. Can't quite work out why.

Anyway, that was when the cane came into play.

Self was waving it about, light glinting of its head, making all manner of dramatic gestures and become uncomfortably aware that all Board members were watching cane instead of self and self's impressive gestures.

So, cane became the symbol.

"Do you want me to leave?" No response. Put cane behind back and repeated question and got noncommittal replies. Self fingered cane for a moment, then idea struck. "I'm leaving." A few blank looks greeted statement. "And I'm taking the cane!"

Horror does not come close to describing the looks on their faces.

So, self said, "Anyone who wants the cane, sign the paper."

Do believe they actually came very close to Avadaing each other in order to be first to sign. Rather impressive for a gaggle of suit-wearing idiots from the Ministry, thinking on it, really.

Have the scroll now, though. Is all pretty and safe and locked up somewhere wife will never ever look for it: in self's cane-polish drawer. Even wife fears to look where the cane's possessions reside.

Will now go and celebrate success of meeting and reception of scroll by rampantly pouncing wife and perhaps take her for some kind of celebratory dinner. Or just shag her silly on the dining table. 

Whatever happens first.

Finishing now.


	14. It's My Party

The Chronicles of Lucius

It's My Party

Notes: I know, it's taken me a while to get to this particular chapter, but oy! At least 20 other series on the go, plus, my muse demanded loudly that I start working on that illusive Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings epic, which looks like it will be at least 10 chapters. Fear my mind. Seriously. 

Anyway, this is the second to last chapter of this particular series. *gets all teary-eyed* I've almost finished this, my strange and surreal baby. How I will miss thee, bimbo!Lucius :)

__________________________________________________

****

April 30th 1993

__

Hair 'crimped' (Have given into wife's need to play with new hair-styling toys. Did not wish to feel wrath of wife's riding crop again. Wife v. kinky beast. Rawr). Evil glare turned off for day (Am bored of evil-glaring at Hell in hopes that something might happen. Hasn't worked in past two weeks. Bored bored bored! Can't even bully board, as self might go over top and kill them all. Am so v. bored). Robes as stylish as ever for Sexy Icon of wizarding world. Arse refirmed after confinement to small padded room in holiday home.

Am bored.

Wish son would come home so self could torture him.

Hell, wish any visitors might drop by, so self could torture and maim them horribly, as self is so v. v. bored and has nothing to do. Tearing out toe-nails of unsuspecting guest is looking more and more fun by the minute.

Yes. Am bored.

Even wife isn't helping.

Nor is new hairstyle. Wife said something about seeing it on Lockhart, favourite celebrity blond himbo of wife. Personally think self looks more glamorous than poncy Lockhart-twit. Better hair. Better robes. Sexier arse.

Plus, have suspicion that Lockhart may be inclined other ways.

Silly, tasteless blond fool is far too interested in hair and clothing (with NO style. Am forced to cringe when he wears cool cerise with deep shade of mauve! The man has no colour co-ordination ability!) to be real, manly wizard. If he showed interest in his arse, self would know for a fact that Lockhart was bent as a hairpin.

Anyway, will not deliberate on him.

Would hate for wife to get wrong idea of self's mocking.

Wife believes self mocks when self truly cares.

Self called wife a stupid cow.

Wife beamed at self as if self had just announced love for her, under sonorus charm in middle of Diagon Alley. Was not being romantic, really. Was just calling wife silly cow, because wife is - in fact - a silly cow.

Have a suspicion if self explains this to wife, v. hot crimpers in wife's hand might end up elsewhere on anatomy and am really not in the mood for trying to get ripples out of self's bits and pieces.

Boredboredbored.

Am tempted to play Quidditch with head of house elf.

Is a sign of how bored self is, that self would voluntarily mount a flying phallic symbol and take the masochistic 'maids' (Am talking house-elf, but makes it so much worse to word it like that) heads and throw balls through holes. 

Will not read into self's mind. 

Am living in state of perpetual Freudianism, since reading his book. Am seriously contemplating using time turner to go back and kill bloody man, so no one else must suffer horrific thoughts his books bestow on people.

Stupid Freud.

Stupid wife.

Stupid boredom. 

Will write when something interesting is happening. Might take a while.

***

****

May 2nd 1993

__

Hair matted (Will kill wife for leaving self's hair in such a state when self can move out of bed. Am ill). Evil glare currently burning a hole through canopy of bed since wife and son are both absent (Bloody fools don't even have courtesy enough to come and see self when self is ill! Wife was meant to be bringing self a fresh packet of baby-soft hankies! (Not that self is a baby, but first ones were too hard on self's sore nose. Self deserves better treatment than this, dammit! Self is a bloody invalid!)) Robes look exceptional considering self is quite clearly dying of this horrendous illness (Wife insists it is just a cold. What does stupid wife know anyway? Am obviously dying of plague or black death or something equally horrible! Must update will and leave nothing to wife or son for rejecting self so in self's hour of need). Arse as ill as rest of self and no one even cares that self might be dead by sundown! 

Am ill.

Horribly so.

Am sure am dying of what appears to be plague. V. nasty.

Self's woke up this morning and fell over. Self is sure self looks utterly dreadful with swollen red nose, blankets tucked up to self's ears, head aching, mucus everywhere and – worst of all – bad hair!

And three days before self's birthday as well! 

Have family not heard of sympathy for dying man? Am appalled that callousness of family extends to self! Self did not magically install bell by bed for wife to stop serving self after only nine and a half hours! 

Must ask her why she feels that running after self is too much like effort!

After all, self only wanted chocolate. 

Is it self's fault that wife: a) went to wrong country for them and had to re-apparate a dozen times to find right chocolates, then b) got spotted by stupid muggle shop keeper due to lack of subtlety in buying expensive chocolates (I.e. appearing in shop, taking box and vanishing without paying. Is v. amusing to have photographic evidence of stupid muggle faces. Occasionally return to torture stupidest-looking ones – is fun!) and c) was arrested for abuse of the continental-hop law (which self made up, just so self could have pleasure of seeing wife in handcuffs (Yep, was v. satisfying to perform arrest on wife. Wife v. suspicious about why self keeps handcuffs in bedroom when it is not self's jurisdiction, but when self countered with question about wife's possessing a riding crop when she doesn't have horses, wife shut up v. quickly and had v. silly grin on face). 

Was v. amused by arrest of wife, esp. extra touch of sending her to dungeons, until self realised self would have no one to feed self hot soup and chocolate buttons, so wife received sentence – to serve self for eternity. Believe wife to think that self is joking. Self most certainly isn't and self wants peeled grapes now, dammit!

Ah, wife is back.

Honestly, one would think she could get grapes by hand from all continents in less than five minutes.

Stupid wife.

Will find replacement if self survives the night. Will tell of it in Chronicles too.

If self survives. 

Self has serious doubts. 

Must write new will when wife isn't looking (See! Even when self is dying, self is v. evil and cunning! Am so v. bad!).

***

****

5th May 1993

__

Hair perfection incarnate. Evil glare diminished in wake of birthday bash (Well, all right, is on reduced mode, so friends (aka fellow followers of snake-faced Dark Lord. Must admit that Dark Lord's meeting provided some v. good friends who know that giving muggles with additional torture sets and chains as birthday presents is v. appropriate. Most other 'friends' tend to send self socks. Stupid friends. Prefer homicidal ones. Are so much more interesting) don't think self has turned soft. Like that would happen!). Robes – glamorous as befits a stunningly sexy evil fiend (Am so damn hot that might burn someone! Wonder if Dark Master might be resentful that self is still best-looking evil bastard when he returns. Mind you, Dark Master did consider himself a stud. And Dark Master also found snakes good for in depth discussions of astrophysics. Enough said, really). Arse in tip-top condition (Wife found firming spell – cheeks like steel!)

Is my birthday!

Am forty years old old enough to do indecent things to self's wife, but not old enough to collect a wizarding pension (Age for receiving wizarding pension was upped to five hundred years old on account of Nicholas Flamel. On self's suggestion, of course, as Flamel was v. old. Am so sneaky! Was most amused by fact that few wizards even reach one hundred fifty. Ministers are idiots and did not realise that poor wizards and witches will starve in old age, while self will have millions to spend on luxury, as self is all respectable in wizardy world. Stupid wizarding world. Am so v. evil!)

Party begins in an hour. Am so v. excited! Hope someone will have had sense to bring Gandalf-wannabe's head on a platter. Would be the ideal present! Self would mount it on the wall with a plaque!

Wife would probably dislike it, but self is still in a bad mood with her for ignoring self when self was dying (Obviously self did not die of horrible disease – wife was proved right. Again. Stupid sodding wife. So self has even more reason for ignoring her and calling her names. Hate it when wife gets snotty about being right. She just looked at self this morning, smiled and said 'Feeling better?' – Self could _feel_ the taunting! How dare she! Not that she actually said 'I was right', but self knew that was what she meant. Could sense it in the way she looked at self. Self is v. astute that way. Grr. Daft wife.)

Anyway, on to self's birthday.

Self didn't get a Porsche, but did get v. nice gift from dear father: a 1920s vintage Rolls Royce complete with wailing duchess and duke within. Do so love torturing aristocracy! They scream like big sissy girls! 

Apparently father filched them with a time turner and is now wanted by the Ministry of Magic for misuse of magical artifacts. Am so impressed! Father really pulls out all the stops when finding the best present he can. Father really is v. spiffy!

Apart from fact that he also sent a card saying that the curse will start working soon.

Am not paranoid, really. Am sure he was joking.

Still, have hired an exorcist anyway.

Nothing like being prepared!

Not that I don't trust father. That's half the problem – trust father to keep his word, as father is v. honourable old fart, which means that curse is probably well on it's way here already.

Maybe it will work on party guests, killing some of the more annoying ones (ie. The ones who bring socks for self's birthday. Stupid fools deserve nothing less than a v. good dose of patriarchal cursing!) and saving on catering.

Hmm.

Must look up spell about controlling familial curses.

Will write later!

***

****

8th May 1993

__

Hair still strangely good considering what happened on birthday night (Or what self can assume happened – too much booze. Have been unconscious for nearly a full day and a half). Evil glare substituted with large ice pack over eyes (Must remember not to drink at parties. Never, ever results in anything good. Must learn from this. Must learn to say no to strip-n-sip wizarding poker (Basically, when one loses, one removes item of clothing and takes wizarding equivalent of a sip = one pint of drink of choice. Am beginning to think choosing Jack Daniels was a v. bad idea. Also, agreeing to Poker in first place was v. stupid. Only card game self knows is exploding snap). Must also invest in person to discover cure for hangovers. Groo...) Robes replaced with... am not sure what, but looks strangely like something... where did wife get Gogo Dancer outfit? Arse is bruised, yet self cannot remember why (Am worried about this! Wife keeps giving self knowing, wicked looks. Am hugely concerned!)

Last think self recalls is falling over.

Am beginning to see a pattern in situations that occur when self attends parties and must remember that self a) can't hold booze, b) seems to lose all inhibitions when slightly merry and c) (Worryingly) looks good in a dress.

Will try not to think on it.

Am concerned enough about perverse son and his fixation on green-eyed boy. Yes, stupid green-eyed Pot boy was mentioned in self's birthday scroll from son. Just what self needed. Image of Pot-boy for birthday. I mean, mental image. Self does absolutely not need image of Pot-boy! Self doesn't even recall that Pot-Boy has v. fascinating green eyes! Really!

Ahem. 

Will go and look at scroll signed by Board of Governors to cheer self up with thought of kicking Gandalf-wannabe out and take self's thoughts from bloody Pot-boy. Not that self is thinking of Pot-boy.

Gnuh…

Am sure it is hangover talking.

Self sounds so much more brainless than usual. Will go find potion to cure headache.

***

****

9th May 1993

__

Will detail later!

Word just came in from Hell! More petrifications have happened! Am so happy! Will write more later! 

***

****

9th May 1993

__

Hair just released from ribbon (Only bad part of day, really). Evil glare replaced with big, happy, smug grin (and occasional giggle, but manliness does not matter right now, as self is so bloody evil! Can giggle evilly!). Robes look more dashing than ever before, as they always do when self has done something smug and evil! (Am so v. bad!) Arse worthy of being elevated to highest level of the aristocracy!

Gandalf-wannabe is GONE!

Self went up to school (Managed to avoid running into strange-smelling greasy Head of son's school house. V. relieved, as self was looking too good to be soiled by presence of grease-man. Am sure that grease from him can jump to self. V. not good for self's complexion) with pre-signed scroll because self is so v. organised and went to strange shack of v. large and odd-smelling hairy man, where Fudge just happened to be as well (Always love scaring daft old fart. Is so v. easy) and gave precious scroll to Gandalf-wannabe, who then talked to wall and left.

Knew old man had cracked. This provided solid evidence.

Self was so damn good!

"We feel you've rather… lost your touch."

Damn, self was on top form in the evilness stakes! Am the best! Am so wicked and bad and everything else spiffy!

Unfortunately, evilness was somewhat undercut by fact self had to wear a bow to ensure hair didn't get out of self's control. V. annoying! After self vowed never to wear a ribbon again, self had no choice, since all self's dominant and manly bobbles seemed to have gone missing.

Self went to wife before self went out and asked for a leather thong, or something pertaining to a sexy villain image. Wife went into underwear drawer and pulled out a tiny, black leather thong. And not of hair-tying variety. Am not sure self wants to know why wife has something like that! Looked like it could serve as a cheesewire, it was so tiny!

So, self was forced to resort to ribbon.

Still, self's evil sneer and mocking raised brow negated wimpy effect of ribbon.

Plus, am sure self saw Fudge quivering with self's dominant manliness. 

Either that, or he was observing self's evil cane again.

Either way, self made sure to keep a fair decent distance from him (Stupid little man tried to take scroll from self. Like self would give him anything! Fudge obviously has it bad for self, trying to steal trinkets from self, no doubt for shrine to self that self is sure he has in his basement) so he could not paw at self.

And Gandalf-wannabe is gone!

Self made a plan and it worked and…

It worked.

Eek!

This is a first! 

Self succeeded in creating a cunning plan, which worked, and made evil look so v. sexy without even trying! Am so v. v. Bad! Maybe self really should consider trying to take over Dark Master's title! Would make evil look good!

Am going to go and celebrate with wife! Wife has no clue what is happening (As usual), but am sure she will be more than willing to celebrate fact that self is so damnably sexy.

Will write more later!


	15. End of an Era

The Chronicles of Lucius

End of an Era

Author Notes: For the sake of principle, I have to apologise for the months of delay on this chapter, but because I am idiot and tend to delay things a lot, I hope I will be forgiven. Here (be ready) is the excuse: I'm in Sweden at present and have been for the last 3 months and I, being a fool, forgot all my copies of the HP books. Instead, shame on me, I was stockpiled with a massive heap of Tolkien, which does making the final scenes of CoS and thereby CoL easy to access. Fortunately, the lovely Siria Black came to visit and with her, brought CoS in book and DVD form and thus, I was saved.

So here we are! Chapter 15! The final! The end! The over-abundance of exclamation marks!

_____________________________________

****

May 14th 1993

__

Hair beyond perfect. Evil glare replaced with one of boredom. Robes – have been changed every twenty minutes. Arse – bored off it.

Has been days since Gandalf-wannabe was kicked out of school and yet, nothing is happening. No more petrifications. No sign of snake-beast-thing. Worst of all: no death! Am v. disappointed.

One had assumed that when cracked old man left school, snake would run rampant.

Well, not quite run, but… you know… slither.

Apparently stupid little girl with bad hair has found way to resist power of Dark Lord's poetry (which really wasn't that good (Dark Lord incapable of making couplets rhyme – spam does not rhyme with plan, no matter how much imperius he uses to make you say it does), but self didn't want to be the one to tell him for fear of nasty repercussions. (Not that self was scared, but you know, you don't insult Dark Lord's precious poetry and walk away with hair manageable. Self has rather a close attachment to hair. Tis called self's head and self wanted to keep it that way. Dark Lord's hair envy was bad enough).

Either that or stupid little girl is stupider than self thought and has didn't know how to read, therefore diary could not do what it was meant to and Dark Master is – for want of better phrasing – bollixed.

Though does raise question about how prior petrifications have happened. 

Hmm.

Paradoxical.

Not sure what it means, but sounds v. appropriate. And intellectual. Self always strives to sound intelligent.

Even so, one would think Hell would be in chaos now that stupid Gandalf-wannabe is out of school and big, ugly, hairy man (who would be only one really big enough to catch snake beast – would probably want it for his collection. V. strange man) is no longer there to stop it.

Perhaps self was hoping for too much.

Am desperately resisting temptation to go to school and jinx Mudbloods.

Not only would it scare children in Hell, but would be v. fun as well! 

And with no Gandalf-wannabe to stop self, do believe self could take over school and be in charge and make all students bow down and serve self like filthy little slaves they are!

Of course, no purebloods because that would be v. wrong and self's friends would be v. put out if self did that to their spawn. Or mudbloods because that would be v. disgusting. Or anyone v. ugly because it would negate point of self being pretty if self can't have pretty slaves (Though not too pretty because self would not want to look bad – if that is even possible). Or anyone with bad hair, though no one with v. good hair cos self would not want to be made to look bad by silly children.

Hmm.

On other hand, would probably be easier to just go and play Quidditch with House Elves for moment. Why do matters of dominating wizarding world have to be so complicated when it comes to slaves?

***

****

May 18th 1993

__

Doesn't matter. 

Still nothing. Grr.

Wife keeps telling self not to pout. 

Am not bloody pouting! 

Am brooding in dark, serious, sinister fashion as befits v. evil, wicked wizard.

***

****

May 24th 1993

__

Hair twisted into knots. Evil glare of disappointment directed at Hell (and son for getting self's hopes up, little git!). Robes look exceptional, as usual. Arse is seated, but is taking every effort of self not to go storming to Hell to break things (Mainly son's head for being source of great disappointment! Grr!)

Maybe self is a little too excited about thought of Hell being closed and self being blamed and Dark Master coming back and taking over the world and providing self with more power than self could ever otherwise dream of, but self does not need son to taunt self so!

When a letter arrived from Hell this evening, self imagined something of interest might have happened, but self was proven sorely mistaken and self's desire to smack son on head with cane (which has been diminishing of late – self believes it to be due to son-withdrawal) returned full force.

Son had written to self to whine about the fact that he has to do exams!

Does self even look remotely sympathetic to such a thing? Son seems to have appropriately forgotten that he is at school and therefore should be doing exams to prove he is not as stupid as silly wife!

Self wants to hear about more interesting stuff! Like Mudbloods being killed by great big snake! Or that there is a robe sale at Madame Malkin's (Self has to look good for impending return of Dark Master).

But no.

Son ranted and whined about exams for two pages, then spoke about putting friends under imperius to make them do exams for him, which would really be rather pointless as son's friends seem to share single and rather fragile braincell between them.

Would explain son's v. bad grades, though.

After all, self is v. smart so why would son be a bloody fool?

On plus side, self did have very smart friends at school. Perhaps self should see about making sure son has smarter friends, so self doesn't leave Hell looking like brain-dead ninny.

Aside from that, have noticed long-nosed house Elf watching self an awful lot of late. Am beginning to suspect that it might be up to something. Or after self's cane. After all, if Ministry types cannot conceal desire for cane, how could miserable little beast like House Elf?

To cheer self up, self kicked him down stairs.

House Elf bounced remarkably well, though self is beginning to grow increasingly alarmed by fact that by the time self had stopped berating House Elf, a queue had formed and all House Elves were looking at self expectantly.

Damnable things! Self had forgotten masochistic tendencies.

Self must find new way to torment them.

***

****

May 25th 1993

__

Hair pleasantly brushed. Evil glare on full power and directed at squealing House Elves (Am so very evil). Robes replaced with shirt and breeches (No use for robes in what self is up to, today). Arse, nicely supple.

Have found perfect punishment for house Elves.

Recalled some House Elf superstition that if given clothes, the little wretches will be forced from home and family, so self came up with a new game, whereby self has charmed clothes to chase House Elves around house.

Wife told self that self was being v. immature, but self couldn't care less because it is far too much fun seeing how fast ugly little things can run, especially when they scream like girls.

Game was made even funnier when one House Elf was attacked by wife's charmed support garments (which are v. expensive and paid for by wife, so self didn't need to worry about damage). 

Have never seen wife move so fast! 

Don't know what was more amusing about the situation – look of terror on the House Elf's face when he was tackled by wife, or the look on wife's face when she did said tackle. 

Was most impressive, as well. Never knew wife had nerve (or love enough of anything. Well… it was for her clothing, so self should have known that) to dive down a flight of stairs, touch a filthy House Elf and wrestle for underwear.

Day suddenly got so much more interesting.

Wife is still currently battling House Elf. Will write later of wife's doubtless victory (Wife is really v. attached to that bustier).

***

****

28th May 1993

__

Hair tied in all manner of knots. Evil glare directed at wife. Robes still missing. Arse rather sore.

Bloody wife.

Clearly self's joke with wife's undergarments and self's amusement with the whole situation was not v. amusing for wife. 

Have heard that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Self believes that phrasing is wrong: Hell hath no fury like a woman whose favourite underwear is charmed to do embarassing things to the house slaves.

Self has only been saved by a letter from the board.

Had word not arrived and saved self from further humiliation, am not sure how much longer wife would have left self bound up in the basement, wearing her older and not so charming underwear.

On plus side, though, note said that stupid girl from school has been taken into Chamber of Dark Master, which means plan is working again and if so, then Dark Master should be back before day is out. 

Then self will be rewarded for unfailing loyalty and coming up with cunning plan and managing to make sure self found stupid enough girl to be possessed by Dark Master, when self gave her nice little book as generous gift with intention of sucking out her soul through memories of darkest wizard in the world.

Have been wondering, though (as one does when tied up in basement by wife, wearing skimpy underwear. Though not in a kinky fashion!), will Dark Master return as himself or will he take over little girl's body?

While balding boss with bad taste in fashion is hardly most attractive sight in first instance, am certain that he would make so many more colour co-ordination errors with hair as red as stupid girl's.

Can see horrible situations arising when Master wears favourite shades of green with awful red hair.

Actually, would rather not imagine that.

Anyway, sent message back saying self was gravely concerned, of course, and that clearly it was old Gandalf-wannabe's fault that everything at Hell had gone so horribly wrong.

Have not yet received word back, but am sure that the board agree.

After all, self specifically included a post script mentioning that self would curse them and all their families by taking beloved cane away from them if they did not believe self.

Will wait for further word.

***

****

28t h May 1993 (Later)

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No time

Just received rather worrying owl from son. 

Apparently, he saw Gandalf-wannabe return to school.

Have decided that board are quite clearly mad and therefore, self should go, set matter straight and kick old fool out again, because otherwise Dark Master's return will be ever so slightly hindered.

Will write later.

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29th May 1993 (12.34am)

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Hair dishevelled and tangled. Evil glare directed, in full power mode, at Pot-Boy, treacherous House Elf and bloody Gandalf-wannabe. Robes torn and rumpled (Bloody House Elf!). Arse bruised (BLOODY HOUSE ELF!)

Well, now self knows where House Elf was sneaking off to.

Apparently self's abuse wasn't sufficient for it, so it appears that House Elf wanted to get itself in even more serious trouble than before, so self would beat it more soundly. 

Explains why it tried to break into Chronicles.

Perhaps it really was trying to find out self's cunning plan, so it could try and thwart it, leading to torment and beatings from self. Sick, perverted little git.

Should perhaps be grateful to stupid Pot-Boy for arranging for self to give sock to Elf and thereby getting rid of it.

Of course, it appeared stupid bloody House Elf was not pleased about being lost and, using defence of Pot Boy as excuse, threw self down a flight of stairs, resulting in bruised arse, sore head and ruined robes!

All this after self arrives at school, hears that stupid little girl has been rescued by none other than the oh so wonderful Pot Boy, who is really the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts (Am being sarcastic. Please note this. Self really has deep, vile and bitter loathing for green-eyed Pot Boy).

And, not only has self's spiffy plan to resurrect Dark Master been ruined by Wonder-Pot's stupid idealistic tendency to be heroic, but now, board have been spreading rumours that self threatened to curse their families!

Self did no such thing!

All right, all right, maybe self did that a little, but not recently!

It was all going so well!

Even when self ended up confronting old fool about his presence back at Hell, self was epitome of cold, calculating and v. calm. Then stupid Pot-boy and his stupid sock show up and self's motivation to remain polite and dignified was royally bollixed.

Vaguely recall pulling wand on Pot-Boy in sheer frustration, but am not sure if self really did give into the temptation to yell killing curse, because self was so very very annoyed about loss of book, of plan and of ability to get Gandalf-wannabe kicked out. 

All seems something of a blur until the moment self bounced down the stairs when stupid House Elf decided to intervene.

Am v. much not happy.

Have v. strong desire to kill something.

Wife has been giving self odd looks and asking if self is feeling all right.

Of course self isn't bloody all right!

Owl has just arrived. Will see what further nonsense has been brought up, since self refused to go to meeting with board after they admitted to self that they asked Gandalf-wannabe back (Bloody Board!)

Narcissa Malfoy here – it appears that my husband has had a relapse into the condition that our dear son's April Fools' joke triggered in him and he will temporarily be indisposed. 

I did not realise he was so greatly affected when it came to the matter of being on the Board of Governors. Apparently being ejected from their esteemed ranks has caused a great offence to him.

And before he managed to seal this diary of his.

Not that I would ever take advantage of his moment of weakness and invade his privacy thus.

Of course not.

After all, I respect my husband, his opinions and I… honestly believe I am fooling no one, so since he will never again see this journal, I will finish for now.

Narcissa (Black) Malfoy.


End file.
